


Son of Palaven, Daughter of Earth

by miceenscene



Series: Shakarian - A Descent into Madness [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espionage, F/M, First Contact War, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, in which kaitlyn crams every romantic trope that has ever made her swoon into one goddamn story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 120,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: Commander Shepard was there the day Earth lost the First Contact War. Major Garrus Vakarian personally watched Humanity surrender to the Turians. But they never could have dreamed the roles they would have in the oncoming fight.Yeah, it's an arranged marriage AU. Cuz I'm Shakarian trash. So. Enjoy.





	1. At Ease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelenloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelenloth/gifts), [itsnatunusual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnatunusual/gifts), [Chemicallywrit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemicallywrit/gifts).



“Absolutely not.” Commander Jane Shepard stood and began immediately pacing, feeling as though the walls of the Admiral’s office were suddenly closing in on her.

“Commander, sit back down,” Admiral Hackett ordered in a tired voice.

“No.” She spun on her heel to face her two superiors again, indignation overwhelming any fear of insubordination. “I have rights. This cannot be forced on me.”

“No one is forcing you.” Captain Anderson stepped in in his usual calming way. It just made her more angry. She stared at him for a moment in outrage. How could  _ he _ of all people ask this of her?

“So you want me to  _ want _ to this?” She scoffed and returned to pacing. “Why would you ever  _ think _ I would want this? Or that anyone would want this?”

“We don’t have a choice right now. We lost, Commander,” Hackett said gruffly, sitting forward in his chair and jabbing a finger at the top of his desk.

“I know that.”

“And so the turians have a long list of concessions that they want from us. We’re not in a position to negotiate. They expect us to balk at this, to refuse. And then they’ll ask for something more in exchange. But if we can agree to this, we can stop them in their tracks for the time being. Give us a chance to shore up other support, figure a better path forward.”

“And,” Anderson added. “We’ll have a man on the inside.” He gave her a small encouraging smile. It almost worked too. 

Shepard looked between the two of them. “You want me to be a mole.”

Anderson nodded. “Exactly.” 

“I’m not trained in espionage.” 

“We know, that’s why we picked you,” Hackett said, sitting back in his seat and folding his hands. “Spiky bastards won’t see it coming.” 

Shepard frowned and tried to methodically think their plan through. Or think it through at all rather than be overwhelmed by knee-jerk panic. “They’re not going to put me in the heart of one of their intelligence centers. I wouldn’t have clearance for anything,” she pointed out.

“Once they have you settled, we can help guide you on how to find useful intel.” Hackett shook his head. “At this point, even bare bones information will be better than what we have.”

“We may have lost this war, but there’s still a fight. Humanity’s not done yet,” Anderson said with far more conviction than Shepard currently felt.

“And you can have a big part helping to win that battle, Commander.” 

Shepard drifted to her chair and sat back down. She pressed her hands against her knees and took a long breath. It felt like her choice was already made for her, as much as she hated it. 

Anderson put a hand on her arm. “We know this is a big ask.”

Shepard scoffed and shook her head.  _ That _ was putting it mildly.

“But when we’ve asked the impossible of you before, you’ve delivered. That’s why we asked you first.”

She frowned and didn’t answer. What Anderson said was true, but this was an entirely different request. They weren’t even in the same ballpark as last time, not even on the same continent, the same galaxy. 

“If you really don’t want to do this, we can find someone else,” Anderson added quietly. Shepard glanced at Hackett, his face was unreadable. She wasn’t sure how much he agreed with Anderson. “But we both think you’re the best woman for the job.”

Shepard sighed. “But marriage?”

 

“Absolutely not.” Major Garrus Vakarian clenched his fists in on themselves, feeling his talons press against the skin. The Generals at the large ovular war table frowned, subvocals buzzing with disapproval, but Garrus stood strong. He needed to punch something, to run, to do anything other than stand at attention. He was practically shaking from the effort to control himself. 

“Perhaps you misunderstood, Major. This is not a request, this is a command,” General Victus replied. A few of the other generals muttered agreements.

“Permission to speak freely, sir.” Garrus locked eyes with the Primarch. 

Fedorian regarded him for a moment with an inscrutable expression. “Permission granted.”

“With all due respect, sir, what the fuck?”

Fifteen minutes ago, Garrus would have practically killed for a chance to be in this room of High Command, to have this kind of attention of the Primarch and the Generals. Now here he was. And he was swearing at them.

Their disapproval grew louder still, but Fedorian chuckled. “There’s no need to keep him blind, Victus.” Fedorian looked over at the General. “Major Vakarian may know the full plan.”

Victus looked back to Garrus. “Fine. It’s a feint,” he explained in a clipped tone. “We need a name to put on the documentation. But we fully expect the humans to refuse.”

Garrus felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

“And when they do, we’ll get what we really want,” Fedorian finished, gesturing a hand. “They’ll have no recourse but to hand it to us.”

“What is it we’re after?” Garrus dared to ask.

The Generals looked between themselves again. They reminded him more of a flock of nervous birds than a war council. Still, he probably wasn’t of high enough clearance to know.

“Their moon.” Fedorian pressed a button on the panel by his seat and a projection of Earth’s moon appeared above the center of the table. “We’re going to establish a base there. Remind them who won this war, and keep any further infractions from cropping up.”

“Why not just do that straight away?” Garrus asked.

“Because that would go against the Varn Conventions,” Victus stepped back in, humming with frustration. 

Garrus glanced down. He should have remembered that himself. In his defense, he was a little distracted by the possible marital axe hanging over his head.

“I assume you have no objections now.” Fedorian stared coolly at Garrus.

He most certainly still did. “And what happens if they do agree?”

“They won’t.” Fedorian shook his head and sounded very sure of himself. “The humans are too individualistic, too scattered to control their people enough to agree. It’s why they lost.”

Subvocals chortled with amusement, puffed with pride. It did little to comfort Garrus, but he had no choice but to trust their judgement.

“Sir.” An aide stepped into the room. “Admiral Hackett is on the vidcom.”

The Generals around the table fixed their posture, adjusted jackets and fringe.

“Excellent timing.” Fedorian sat up in his chair. “Major, you may stay for this.” He pressed another button and the projection of Earth’s moon was replaced with the human Admiral. Garrus had seen many humans in the past year, but they still looked so strange. Their skin all shades of the wrong colors and so vulnerably un-plated.

“Primarch,” Hackett greeted, his voice sounding thin without the undercurrent of subvocals.

“Admiral.” The Primarch sounded not ungracious, but not very welcoming either. Frankly, he sounded victorious. Rightly so. He had just won a war and handily at that.

“Thank you for giving us time to consider your ...request.”

“Of course.”

The Generals hummed with amusement. There were no requests, not in defeat.

“And we will happily accept your offer,” Hackett continued. The humming stopped immediately. Garrus felt his world shake a bit at the foundations. “We think it’s a fine idea, an excellent way to model peace between our worlds and strengthen our connection for the future.” Fedorian’s gaze flickered over to Victus, who nodded and stood. He grabbed Garrus by the arm and hauled him to the other side of the table, just out of view of the Admiral.

“Splendid. We have already chosen a son of Palaven.” Fedorian looked over and Garrus was pushed into view, standing behind his Primarch. “Major Garrus Vakarian. If our intelligence is correct, we believe your soldiers called him Archangel.”

To his credit, Admiral Hackett did not give a single indication of any sort of emotion. He simply nodded. “Very well.” Someone stepped into view next to the Admiral. “Commander Jane Shepard has volunteered to be our dau-representative. And if  _ our _ intel is correct, I believe she is known as Flaming Death.”

Their intelligence was absolutely correct. Garrus would recognize the face of Flaming Death anywhere. Her bright red fringe was unforgettable, as well as her ability to incinerate entire platoons. She locked eyes with Garrus.

“I am honored to be a model for the human race,” she said with innate authority. Unconsciously, Garrus stood up a little straighter. “I look forward to meeting you.”

His mouth suddenly felt very dry. “You as well,” he managed. Her chin rose slightly. They both knew who had just won that battle.


	2. Forward March

Shepard pulled at the collar of her shirt. It felt like it was choking her even though it was nowhere close to her neck. She checked the time. Again. Not even a minute had passed from the last time she checked. The last few weeks had been a flurry of meetings, further training, intel briefings. Anything and everything the Alliance brass could think of to better prepare her for her assignment. But now she was staring down the almost literal barrel of the reality she’d agreed to. It felt like her stomach was going to implode.

She wandered back through her empty apartment, as if she’d missed something the four previous times. The mattress was stripped bare and the closets were empty. Fighting in the war had left very little time for her to decorate, or really accumulate possessions. Everything fit very neatly in her foot locker with some room to spare. She supposed it was just one of the reasons that made her a good candidate for this “mission”: easy to relocate. She’d volunteered for this, she reminded herself. She’d chosen to do this.  _ So stop being a child _ , she thought harshly. 

Thankfully the doorbell chimed and she was stopped from ruminating further. Anderson was on the other side of the door. He wrung his hat in his hand but otherwise looked his normal determined self.

“Well…” He looked about the barren space. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, picking up the foot locker.

“Is this everything?”

“Yes.” And she left the apartment without a second look, Anderson following close behind. 

A car was waiting out on the street beyond. She watched the city streets roll by. The trees were beginning to blossom with pastel pink blooms. Couples walked hand in hand on the sidewalks, the parks were full with families. Vancouver was always beautiful in the spring. 

“How are you feeling?” Anderson asked. 

She glanced over at him and sat up. “Fine.”

Anderson leaned forward and rolled up the screen, separating them from the driver. “How are you feeling?” he asked again, putting emphasis on every word.

“Being discharged was a bit of a surprise,” she muttered. It felt weird to be in her civvies when Anderson was dressed in his Alliance blues.

“They wouldn’t let you formally be a soldier while on Palaven soil.”

“As if that really changes anything.”

“They know it won’t. They’re just trying to shake you.” She glanced at him and didn’t mention that it was almost working.

They were silent for a few blocks. There was very little left to say. She’d made this bed, so to speak.

“I have something for you,” Anderson cut into her reverie. He pulled a wrapped parcel from his bag and handed it to her.

“A wedding present?” she deadpanned.

“A going-away gift.”

She opened it. It was a leather-bound book. She ran her thumb over the title in curling gold script.

“Brontë? Really?”

“I had a copy just like this one when I was in college.” Anderson tapped the cover. “Jane’s a very strong woman who perseveres through tough circumstances.”

She looked up at him. Anderson had been her CO for most of the war. He’d lead their team through horrors no human had ever seen before. And they’d come out the other side. He could do it again. She tried to smile a little, but wasn’t sure that it came out right.

“Thank you.”

The car slowed as it approached the base. Shepard glanced out the window and saw hundreds of people gathered on the sidewalks and pushing into the street. She flinched as cameras flashed at the car. Anderson sighed. Was he expecting this? Finally, the car made it through the crowd and onto the tarmac.

Shepard got out and the yelling from the crowd seemed to double. Some had signs. About half seemed concerned for her, ‘FREE HER’ as one said, while the other half hated her, ‘TURIAN WHORE’ as another read. All of the faces that she could see were enraged, a wave of vitriol flowing over the chain link fence.

“Come on, Shepard.” Anderson waved a hand towards the waiting shuttle. She straightened her shoulders and turned away from them. Their voices pressed against the back of her skull. She realized as she walked into the shuttle that this was probably the last time she’d ever see Earth. What a farewell.

 

“Turn left up there,” Solana said, pointing to the corner. Garrus merged over a lane and turned onto the quiet street. Solana watched the houses roll past and hummed appreciatively. “They were certainly being serious about setting you up in style.” Overly intricate gardens and high fences lined the street.

Garrus just grunted in reply. Of course his sister could find a bright side to this miserable situation. She could find the better side of a piece of manure.

“It’s on the right there,” she said. “The one ...with the fountain, spirits.”

Their car turned up the long drive in front of the large house. Cool grey stone covered the outside of the house. The second floor was cantilevered over the first as was the fashion about ten years ago. Solana got out of the car immediately, holding a hand up to shade her face as she admired the structure. Garrus took a breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life, and then stepped out.

“ _ This _ is your house?” Solana laughed, stepping back a few paces to get a better view.

“It was General Sius’. He died in the battle on Mars.” Garrus glanced up at the house and then turned back to pull bags about of the trunk. He slung two over his shoulder and grabbed a third. “Little help, Sol?”

“Huh?” She dragged her gaze away from the sculpted landscaping. “Oh, right.”

She grabbed a box and huffed a breath, following him up the many steps to the front door.

“Did you pack enough? I think you may have forgotten your front door.”

“They evicted me from my apartment.” His subharmonics hummed with frustration. “And Dad certainly wasn’t going to let me store anything back home.”

“Did you ask?”

Garrus didn’t answer, just strained to activate his omnitool and wave it in front of the door. It opened with a quiet hiss and the pair walked inside.

Solana set down the box with a solid thud that echoed down the marble hall. “Welcome home,” she said with a bit too much cheer. He gave her a look. “Come on, it won’t be all bad. I mean, you get this house.”

“You can have the house,” he grumbled, dropping his bags inside the door. He walked through a wide archway into the main living area. Low couches and bright sparkling chandeliers were sprinkled about the expansive space. Floor to ceiling windows in the back looked out to a deck and then a meticulously planned garden in the back. It was beautiful, if cold and impersonal.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she warned, dropping down on a couch. She stretched and hummed. “Yeah, you can have my apartment with the couple that won’t shut up next door and their noisy baby and I’ll take this place.”

“Perfect. Then you can be bonded to the human.” He spotted a bar at the far end of the room and went to investigate.

“Have you met her?”

“Saw her over a vidcom.” There were several bottles of very nice liquors in various states of consumption, apparently very little had been cleared out of the house following the General’s death. He chose a brandy at random and poured a glass.

“And?”

He looked back at Sol. “And what?”

She gave him an exasperated sigh. “What’s she like?”

He thought momentarily of the brief exchange they’d shared. In less than twenty words she had already established herself as a force to be reckoned with, every bit the legend that soldiers told horror stories about in hushed whispers. He hadn’t been quite as successful. 

“Have you heard of Flaming Death?” he asked, taking a sip and savoring the burn down the back of his throat.

“Of course.”

“That’s her.”

Solana’s jaw fell open. “Seriously?” She vaulted over the back of the couch and walked closer to him. “Flaming-- _ The _ Flaming Death?” She looked into the middle distance. “I’m going to be sisters with Flaming Death.”

Garrus rumbled with more frustration, but Solana paid him no mind.

“What does she look like?” she asked, excitement bubbling off her subvocals.

He sipped his drink. “Like a human?”

Solana huffed another breath. “Is she pretty?”

“Of course not. They’re all too small and pink and far too easy to eviscerate.”

She seemed to be thinking. “Does she actually have red fringe?”

“It was more orange, but yes.”

She buzzed happily. “That’s so cool.”

“Glad one of us is excited.” Garrus finished the glass and poured another bigger glass.

“Hey, Mom and Dad are excited too.” He gave her a look. “Well, Dad is anyway. Keeps saying that this is a great honor for the family, for you.”

“Don’t you get it?” Garrus said, his patience finally snapping. “It doesn’t feel like an honor. This isn’t a privilege. It’s a life sentence. It’s a plan that failed and  _ I _ have to live with the consequences.” He shook his head and turned back to the bar. This was probably the worst thing to ever happen to him, how was he supposed to just accept this? Be honored by this?

“Not just you,” Sol said quietly. It stopped his downward spiral.

He looked over at her. “What?”

Her mandibles flexed back and forth casually. “You’re not the only one having to go through this. She is too.”

“She volunteered; I was ordered,” Garrus retorted.

Solana frowned like she doubted his statement. “I’m just saying that if nothing else, you at least have that in common. It’s a start.”

He sighed. “I think you have a lot more faith in this union than I do.”

“No, I just know you better.” She smiled a little and shook his shoulder. “Now come on, let’s get the rest of your stuff.”


	3. D-Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, mention of blood. Stay safe. -K

Shepard had never really considered her wedding day before. Her life had been on a very set track for the past several years: basic, then officers academy, N7 training, and then to cap it off, an intergalactic war. There’d been very little time to plan for anything more than the next few minutes. And even before that she had never been the type to make plans too far in advance. Life taught her early on to never hold too close to anything, unless you want to suffer when it’s taken from you. Still, she was pretty certain that this was not how she expected her wedding to go.

The dress was familiar at least. White silk gracefully flowed off her strong frame. No flashy sequins or itchy lace, just smooth fabric and simple lines. She rubbed her hands over the skirt again and again, trying and failing to find some sort of comfort in the texture.

But the dress was where the familiarity stopped. It wasn’t just that the planet was foreign to her. The people were strange. Stoic unreadable faces moving with inhuman grace. It was impossible for her to distinguish the citizens from the soldiers. After her farewell on Earth, she’d been expecting the worst upon her arrival. But there was no large protest, no gathered onlookers. No one seemed to care at all that she was there besides the occasional stare from across the street. She couldn’t decide if she found that comforting.

The wedding itself was the icing on the very disconcerting cake. There was no church. No flowers, no music, hell, not even guests. Oh, and no cake, not that she could eat it anyway if there had been some. She’d felt distinctly overdressed as she followed her handler through the halls of what seemed to be a government building; she couldn’t read the sign outside. Most everyone else was wearing some sort of uniform so she stood out like a sore thumb in a stupid white dress.

They’d taken her into a small room with just a few turians gathered inside. She recognized the Primarch and Major Vakarian, but none of the others. Whether they were in formal dress too she couldn’t tell, but they at least weren’t in uniform.

The turians had obviously been informed of some human customs. Her, shudder at the thought, husband gave her a ring made of an unfamiliar metal to wear. It felt heavy on her fourth finger. But that was the extent of their inclusion. They both signed several documents and some sort of priest or shaman said a few words. Honestly, it felt more like buying a house. Not surprising for such a militant culture, she supposed, but unexpected for her.

The shaman finished speaking and there was an extended pause. She looked to the Major, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. She glanced back at the group. They seemed to be waiting expectantly. She racked her brain. The Alliance had given her several crash courses in what they knew about turian customs, which wasn’t much at all. She was coming up empty.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Shepard finally admitted, hopefully quietly enough that only the Major could hear.

He leaned down suddenly and swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style. She tried to maintain some sort of balance and found a handhold on the back of his neck. He tensed, but thankfully didn’t drop her. Swiftly, he crossed into an adjoining chamber. The door shut solidly behind them.

He set her down gently and she looked about the room. The windows were frosted and framed by heavy blue curtains. A large patterned rug spread across the stone floor. But the space was dominated by a large very plush looking bed. Her head swam as she suddenly put together what was supposed to happen here. Turian marriages must be consummated before they were considered legitimate.

_ Fuck. _

 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” the Commander said quietly, drawing Garrus’ attention back to her. He’d found himself considering different escape plans during the last half of the ceremony. But none were found that didn’t include certain death or barefaced shame.

She wasn’t supposed to be doing anything. He had just been wondering, hoping really, that given their circumstances they could skip the next step. However a very quiet rumble from the Praetor in front of them quashed that plan. 

He leaned down and picked her up, jostling her as she was much lighter than expected. Her hand suddenly gripped the pack of his neck, fingers brushing against sensitive skin and sending a jolt through his system. He looked down at her. Did she know? But she was maintaining a very aloof expression, though it was difficult to read her face without plates and mandibles. Swallowing his dread, he crossed into the room beyond.

He set her down and once again considered his options. The door behind them wasn’t locked, but it might as well have been bolted with the societal expectations barring their exit. There didn’t seem to be any way but forward. Trying to hold back a wave of disgust, he started shrugging out of his jacket.

Her head snapped to look at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, harshly. 

He froze. “Ah…” He looked between her and the bed. Was it not obvious what they were supposed to do here?

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

His mandibles flickered back and forth incredulously. “But we--”

“That’s Not. Happening.” Her jaw set in a familiar position.

Garrus looked at her for a moment. For a short human swathed in soft pale fabric that made her look like some sort of flower, she was mightily intimidating. Of course in ancient history there had been unions like theirs, unwilling parties brought together and bound in matrimony. He could make a pretty good guess of what past turians did when finding themselves in a similar situation. But he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t going to take what was not freely offered, nor did he want to. So that left them in a very tricky position.

“They won’t let us out until they have proof that we’ve ...joined.”

One of her lips curled up in obvious disgust. He heartily agreed, both on the idea itself and his poor word choice. 

She looked around the chamber for a minute. “Are there cameras in here?”

“Of course not.”

“Fine.” She unfolded her arms and squared up her shoulders. “Then we’ll give them proof.”

He paled for a moment as she marched towards the bed. She pulled back the top blanket harshly. Guess she’d changed her mind unfortu--his thoughts were interrupted as a pillow hit him square in the chest.

“Tear a hole in that,” she ordered, grabbing another pillow and roughly throwing it to the floor. He did as she said and offered it back to her. She plunged her hand inside and came back with a fistful of feathers, which she started sprinkling around the bed and onto the floor. “Throw that somewhere.”

He tossed it near the direction that the other pillow had gone. Meanwhile, the Commander untucked the bottom sheet and rumpled the fabric. She walked about the chamber, craning her head around. She huffed a breath.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, after he realized what she was doing.

“Do you have a knife?” she replied.

“No?” Why would he be armed? He was being bonded today. What sort of strange traditions did humans have?

She frowned and drummed her five fingers against her hip. She looked back over at him. “Give me your hand.” She held out her hand and walked towards him. He automatically backed up a step.

“Why?”

“I need your talons.”

That didn’t feel like much of an explanation, but she didn’t elaborate. Knowing that he was stupidly putting himself in the grip of the best close-quarters combat specialist the humans had to offer, he extended his hand. She took hold of his thumb and quickly drew it across her palm, slicing through her thin skin in one smooth motion.

He whipped his hand back but she didn’t seem to be very bothered by her new wound. The bright coppery smell immediately hit his nose and he backed up some more. She fisted her hand, strangely red blood starting to pool, and walked back towards the bed, holding it out over the uncovered sheets. Several drops fell, staining the white fabric a striking crimson.

“Do humans really bleed during sex?” he asked incredulously before he could think better of it. 

Her gaze lifted to his. “Only when it’s done poorly.”

He should probably be insulted, he realized. She tore off a bit from her dress, apparently her skirt had layers to it, and fisted the fabric in her injured hand. 

He observed the tableau she had constructed. Admittedly, it did seem to be very convincing proof that something had happened in the room. He didn’t feel great about lying to the Hierarchy, but it wasn’t as though they gave him much of a choice. This plan of the Commander’s wasn’t perfect, but it did buy time. Which was really all he needed. He’d figure a way out eventually.

“There.” She admired her handiwork. “Now we’ve lied together even if we haven’t laid together.”

In his experience there wasn’t much lying down at all, but who knew how humans preferred things to be.

“Is this proof enough?” she asked him. It almost was, but there was one very obvious thing she’d forgotten. He pointed to his neck and her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“How much do you know about bonded turians?” She shook her head and raised her shoulders up and down. “Spirits…” He heaved a breath. “Traditionally, a bonded pair mark each other in some way. Often at the base of the neck.”

Her face looked horrified and her injured hand drifted to brush at the area. It gave him an idea.

“Here.” He walked a little closer. Now it was her turn to backup a step. “I’m not going to bite you.”  
“Right.” She was putting up a very strong bravado, but now that he was close enough he recognized the expression hiding in her eyes: fear. He’d seen it in many humans in their final moments, but it was somehow different coming from her. Perhaps because it wasn’t just a general fear of the end, but rather a very direct fear of him.

He moved slowly, reaching for her injured hand. He took it in his and removed the bandage, the muscles on her arm flinched as he pulled away the final layer. The wound hadn’t clotted yet. He dabbed a little on the pad of his finger and moved to her exposed neck. She inhaled sharply and braced as if for an attack. But he simply drew a few strokes where her neck met her shoulder, trying to match a bite pattern. 

“That should work for them,” he said, stepping back.

She glanced at him then tried to crane her head to see what he had done. “A cut there would bleed more than this.”

“It’s a mark, not a wound.”

She gave him an unparsable expression. But she didn’t incinerate him where he stood so he took it as a good sign. 

She rebandaged her hand and went to sit on one corner of the bed. He sat on the other and they were plunged into silence. He realized with a sense of foreboding that this was going to be most of his life from now on. Everyone would think that this woman was his mate and they couldn’t even bring themselves to talk to each other. 

The silence was interrupted by rustling coming from the Commander. He looked over and she was running her uninjured hand through her fringe. It took on a wild and unkempt look. He took a page from her book and finally took off his formal jacket, loosening the ties on his tunic underneath.

An hour crept by agonizingly slow. She’d occasionally muss her fringe again. At one point she started blowing loose feathers from her hand, sending them dancing across the floor, but she stopped when she noticed him watching her. One hour turned into two, and finally the door opened again.

He stood as the Primarch and the Praetor entered. They both observed the scene. Bed untidied and stained, scattered feathers moving from undetectable breezes, the Commander pulling her dress back into place with wild fringe and a red mark on her shoulder. For a moment, Garrus worried that even still this wouldn’t be enough. That they’d see straight through their ruse.

But the Praetor smiled. “Congratulations. May the spirits bless you.”


	4. Ground Zero

Palaven was ugly, Shepard firmly decided. The sky was the wrong color, too saturated in hue. It looked fake. The flora was short and scrubby. The buildings were brutalist blocks of stone and glass. Despite the sun setting, hot wind chapped her cheeks the moment she stepped out of doors. Or rather, was carried out of doors. The Major was insistent about not letting her walk to the vehicle. She hoped it was just a wedding tradition and not in fact the new normal of her life.

As they drove in silence, she tried to keep track of which turns they took, how long they went down certain streets, where recognizable landmarks were. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen in the future, but she wanted at least to know how to get out of town if things broke bad. Not that she’d be able to get off planet, but she’d burn that bridge if she got to it.

They seemed to be heading into a nice neighborhood. The houses were larger than she’d seen so far, more space between them. He turned into the drive of one of the last houses. A large water feature filled most of the front lawn, reflecting the boxy house tucked between Palaven’s excuse for trees.

He stopped the car and she started to open her door.

“Wait,” he said, getting out before she could hardly move. She gave him a hard look as he jogged to her side.

“I can walk,” she insisted through her open window.

“It’s just till we get inside. Then I don’t have to carry you again. Ever.”

She heaved a sigh. “Are all turian customs this demeaning?”

The things on the side of his face--mandibles, she believed they were called--moved back and forth. She briefly wondered what that meant.

“It’s not as if you could carry me.”

Her eyebrows jumped sky high and she scoffed. Oh. Is that what he thought? She opened her door without breaking eye contact and slammed it shut. He leaned towards her and she quickly grabbed his hand, lifting it over her head. Before he could react she’d hoisted him over her shoulders and stood back up. She walked towards the house, easily carrying him fireman style. His toes just barely cleared the ground, but her point was made.

“This is not necessary.” His voice was muffled from behind her shoulder. She could feel an odd rumbling reverberating through her shoulders where they met his chest.

“Should have thought of that before you carried me through city hall.” 

The rumbling grew stronger. “It wasn’t--never mind.”

She set him down when they were indoors again. She couldn’t sense the rumbling as soon as they broke contact. That must be the subvocals she’d been warned about. A whole second language that she had no way of detecting, well save touch. But the Alliance hadn’t known that. Till a few weeks ago, if you were touching a turian, you were killing one. Not much time for subvocal detection in that scenario. 

The Major stalked off into a living area, apparently she’d offended him. Good. This whole affair was certainly bending her out of shape.

The house was cold and spacious. But it wasn’t too different from what she would call a house back on Earth, thankfully. Granted it was much nicer than any she’d ever lived in, or even stepped foot in before. She could recognize a main living area and on the other side a dining area from where she stood. The furniture was shaped oddly but she supposed accommodating turian anatomy required very specific designs. She glanced into the dining area; there seemed to be a kitchen behind it. As she could hear him in the next room, moving glasses and pouring liquids, she headed upstairs. The less time they spent together, the better.

The stairs ended in the middle of the second story. Something that resembled an office or a library was to her left with a bedroom to her right and a bathroom in between. She realized with mild horror that based upon the front elevation, there was not going to be a second bedroom.

“For the love of…” she grumbled. The bedroom had floor to ceiling windows that looked over the water feature in the front. Dominating the floor space was another large plush bed. Apparently the only bed. 

Her rising anger was interrupted as she saw a very familiar object. Someone had brought in her footlocker. She tripped on her skirts as she rushed over to it. She knelt before it and ran her hands over the scarred and marked surface. Her platoon had a habit of graffitting their lockers as the brass called it. The soldiers called it personalization. It was almost like seeing a friend, or about as close as she’d get to in this solar system.

She opened it, familiar scents of her detergent and her old apartment rising to greet her. Anderson’s book was nestled on top. She set it aside and rummaged around for a change of clothes. She was finally getting out of this damned dress.

It took her awhile to figure out how to turn on the shower and then the water came from the sides rather than the top. Afterwards, she didn’t feel much better, but she at least felt clean--her ‘mark’ washed away. She rummaged through the cabinets, but couldn’t find any sort of first aid kit. So she settled with ripping a few strips off of one of the towels and rebandaging her hand. The cut wasn’t very deep, but it still smarted. It didn’t bother her much; she’d definitely had worse.

By the time Shepard stepped back out of the bathroom, the sun had long since set. And even though she wasn’t certain of the time, she was certain that she needed sleep. She wadded up her dress and shoved it between her locker and the wall, she hated the sight of it. 

She internally debated about the bed for a long time before picking a side and pulling back the covers. Lying down, it immediately felt like she was being swallowed. It was like someone put a thick mattress-sized pillow on top of a hammock and then had the nerve to call it a bed. After years of Alliance bunks with less give than a park bench, it was almost unbearable. Just one more thing to remind her that this wasn’t her world.

She clambered to the far side, holding onto the frame to keep herself afloat. She shut her eyes, trying to get comfortable enough to find some sleep. But it evaded her. Senses honed over years of training and combat kept telling her that she was not safe here. This was enemy territory. She rolled to her side and took a steadying breath. She could do this, just relax.

It was then that she heard footsteps on the stairs. She remained still with her eyes shut, listening to the Major walk into the room. He pulled something from a bureau in the corner and disappeared into the bathroom. When he exited just a few minutes later, she expected him to go back downstairs. Instead he returned to the bedroom and pulled back the other side of the covers.

_ No, no, no,  _ she thought again and again. He must have laid down, because suddenly the bed shifted and she was sliding towards the center. She was stopped when she collided with something very large, very solid, and very warm. Jesus, he was like an exhaust port.

“Get out.” She tried to scoot away.

“You get out.” She could feel the rumbling again.

“I was here first,” she insisted, grabbing a handful to sheet to try and pull herself away. “Go sleep somewhere else.”

“There’s nowhere else I can sleep.” He was also trying to pull away, but all that was doing was changing the terrain beneath her. She kept sliding back to bump into him again and again.

“Stop! Stop moving,” she snapped. Thankfully, he did and it allowed her to crawl, on hands and knees no less, out of the bed. She rolled off the side, falling ungraciously to the floor with a thud, and stood up in a huff. Grabbing a pillow and the blanket from the foot of the bed, she glared at him and left the bedroom to go sleep downstairs.

 

Garrus woke the next morning and stared at the ceiling of the bedroom for a long while. This was only the first day of their week-long seclusion. And things were already off to a poor start. He probably could have been more understanding about the bed last night. But after she’d carted him around like a sack of bricks, he’d been in no mood to compromise. She’d looked about as angry as he’d felt when she’d fallen out of the bed and stomped away. He idly wondered where the Commander had gone off to. Maybe she’d left. Doubtful, he wasn’t that lucky.

His question was answered when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He shut his eyes as she padded across the floor, obviously taking extra care to not make sound. She opened her odd-looking box, shut it again, and went back downstairs. Apparently that was all she had brought from Earth. It’d arrived at the house the morning of the bonding ceremony. He’d asked the recruit where the rest of her things were but she’d said that was all the Commander had. He’d never realized how austere humans were.

No more than a few minutes later he heard the front door open. At that, he sat up. They weren’t prisoners. But he doubted that the Hierarchy would look kindly on her just up and leaving on the first full day of their union. He went to the windows facing the front to see where she was going. 

She just was down on the front drive, waving her arms in an odd pattern. She stopped and grabbed her foot, bending her leg in a way that legs were definitely never meant to bend. Then she took off. He watched her jog all the way down to the front of the property, worry that he’d had to chase after her with every step. Then she turned and came back, making a lap around the water feature. Oh, she was training.

Confident that she wasn’t planning on running off, he went and got dressed. When he returned about half an hour later, she was still at it. She sprinted up and down the long side of the water feature. Her skin was turning a bit pink, well, more pink and her face deep in concentration. She slowed as she reached the corner, jogging a few steps forward with her momentum. She doubled over, her chest heaving. 

As she stood back up, she met his gaze. She scowled at him and then turned away to repeat the sprint. He couldn’t agree more.

That was the most he saw of her for the rest of the week. It was like the house was haunted rather than he was sharing it with someone. He’d see evidence of her presence, but rarely catch more than a glimpse of her leaving the room he was entering. It suited him just fine, but it made their Seclusion creep by at a glacial pace. Most couples treasured the week they had to spend solely with each other. Whereas he was looking forward to going back to work, which finally arrived on the ninth day of their marriage.

The kitchen was empty, though a steaming mug of something bitter smelling remained on the counter. But even the reminder of her could not break his mood. He was leaving for ten glorious hours. Maybe he’d even go out for drinks after, make it fourteen. The world was his again, finally. As he drove down the driveway, he caught sight of the Commander in the bedroom windows. She was watching him leave, another unreadable expression on her face.

The base was much the same as the last time he saw it. Not a human as far as the eye could see. Perfect. And even better, these were people he’d gone through battle with, people he trusted. 

“There he is!” A familiar voice came from behind him, right before an arm swung over his neck, folding him over and rubbing roughly at the top of his head. “The old bonded stooge come to slum it with us bachelors.”

“Get off, Nihlus.” Garrus shoved his friend’s arm off with a wide grin. Then he did the exact same thing back, except he held Nihlus in place despite his struggles to free himself. 

“Hey!”

“Who’s the best shot?” An unintelligible mumble came from under his arm. “I can’t hear you.”

“You are! Now lemme go,” Nihlus grumbled.

Garrus let him go and Nihlus took a moment to put his fringe back into place. He tried to look angry, but his happy subvocals betrayed him.

“Spirits, it’s good to be back,” Garrus said, shaking Nihlus’ hand. The two of them fell into step as they made their way across the busy tarmac.

“Yeah, so how was your  _ Seclusion _ ?” He added many layers of emphasis over the word and moved his brow plates up and down rapidly. Garrus growled frustratedly and Nihlus grinned. “Ooh, things off to a rough start with the human?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” They stopped to let a cargo truck pass by in front of them.

“So what’s she like?”

Garrus shook his head. “She’s stubborn and shreds my towels and talks to herself in the shower and--” He thought of the squabble they’d had over the bed the first night. “And soft. It’s ...disturbing how soft she is.”

Nihlus laughed as they continued on their way. “Listen, and you have to answer this because we’re all dying with curiosity: what does she smell like?”

Garrus thought for a moment. “Like her soap mostly… and salt.”

“Huh. That’s not as gross as we’d thought it’d be.”

“Of all the things about her, it’s probably the most palatable.”

Nihlus gave him a grin. “And speaking of palatable, what does she taste like?”

Garrus swung an arm, batting against Nihlus’ chest. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yes, but still?”

“No.”

Nihlus stopped and grabbed Garrus’ shoulder. “Wait… do you not know?”

“I know,” Garrus lied. He turned and kept walking. “I’m just not inviting the likes of you into my bedroom.”

Nihlus rumbled with disbelief, but he didn’t press the issue. “Fine, have your secrets. I have my own.”

“Oh, really.” Garrus gave him a look.

“Yes, and they’re good ones too. Like for instance, I know that General Victus wanted to see you in his office ten minutes ago.”

“You ass.” Garrus took off at a sprint as Nihlus laughed behind him. 

Garrus quickly crossed the length of the base, reaching the High Command building rapidly. But it was still a few more minutes before he burst into the General’s office.

“Major, nice of you to finally come.” Victus didn’t look up from his computer. 

Garrus took a few breaths before speaking. “Sir, I apologize, I only just now found out--”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine.” He shut down the screen and turned to look at Garrus. “How was Seclusion?”

Garrus straightened up. “Fine, sir.” 

Apparently that wasn’t the answer Victus was hoping for, judging by his frown. But what did the General expect?  _ Yes, we went from bitter enemies to madly in love over eight short days and now she’s pregnant, congratulate me, _ Garrus thought bitterly. 

“I have your next assignment,” Victus started. Oh, maybe they’d send him on a tour to Menae, he’d be gone for weeks. Maybe months, if he played his cards right. “Or rather, you already have your next assignment.”

“Sir?”

“The First Contact War, as the humans call it, may be over. But we are not so naive to think that this will be the last conflict between our two species. You are in a unique position to gather useful intelligence for the next war.”

Garrus wasn’t sure he understood what the General was asking. It must have been evident on his face.

“Find out everything you can about Earth; major cities, supply lines,” he expounded. “Learn about Humanity, any weak spots we missed, anything else that can be exploited.”

“How?”

“Make friends with the human.”

Garrus’ face fell. “Sir, we haven’t said ten words to each other since our bonding ceremony.”

Victus gave him a long look. “I thought you said things were fine.”

Garrus pushed past the comment and shook his head. “I’m not sure what you’re asking is possible, sir. She despises me. We can’t even be in the same room together.”

“Major, you were not chosen for this assignment because of your ability to kill humans from a thousand meters away.” Victus looked at him for a moment, and his tone softened a touch. “Your team trusted you. You inspired loyalty in them. Inspire some in the human.”

“But, sir--”

“Dismissed, Major.”


	5. Connecting Element

At some point in school, Shepard remembered learning about how humans were social creatures. She’d vaguely understood the concept, but never really gave it much thought. And then no one spoke to her for eight straight days.

She managed the first few just fine. It wasn’t hard to avoid the Major, he made a decent amount of noise as he moved about the house. It was more difficult just to fill the time. She’d finished  _ Jane Eyre _ by day three, and realized immediately afterwards that there was nothing else on the planet that she could read. So she started it again. By day five, she started reading the labels on her shampoo bottles out loud in the shower, not even caring if the Major overheard her. Just something to hear a voice, any voice.

Day seven, she almost broke down. She needed social contact. She felt like she was going crazy. She tracked the Major to the kitchen. He was facing away from her, eating something that smelled terrible and idly flipping through a datapad. But seeing him again reminded her of everything she hated about this situation. As miserable as she was, stubbornness won out in the end and she left him alone.

And then without any warning at all on the morning of day nine, he left the house. She watched him drive away, wondering when he’d be back or even where he was going. Though they hadn’t spoken to each other, she hadn’t realized how different it was to have someone else in the house. But even still, she was glad. She was finally alone.

She’d opened Anderson’s book on the first day and a slip of paper had fallen to the floor. It was covered in numbers. Thirteen rows of groups of three, and then a very long string at the bottom. It took her a moment to puzzle through, but then she realized it was a code. She remembered reading a similar one in a detective story once. First number was the page, second was the line on the page, and last was the letter in the line. She flipped through the pages, decoding quickly, and marking it down on her omnitool. CALL WHEN ALONE. The number at the bottom must be the address she’d input in the terminal. The only problem with this plan is that she was never alone, not really.

Until day nine. As soon as the Major’s vehicle left the drive, she ran to the office in the back. She clicked around on the screen, guessing at what the text meant, till she found a program that appeared relatively similar to the one on Earth. She input the numbers, triple checking that they were correct, and then waited for someone to pick up. It felt like hours passed, though it was only a few minutes till suddenly the screen went dark and Anderson’s face appeared.

“Anderson!” she practically shouted, her voice a little craggy from disuse. 

“Shepard, oh thank god. We were worried. We thought we’d hear from you by now.”

“I wanted to call earlier but  _ he _ was still around.”

“You’re alone now?”

“Yes, finally. Nine days later.” She shook her head. “I think it was some sort of honeymoon.”

“How are you?”

“I’m… I’m fine.” She smiled broadly at him. “But Jesus, it’s good to talk to somebody. How’s Earth?”

“They’re taking care of you?”

“Yes--well… as best they can, I think. How are--”

“That’s good to hear. Have you read  _ Jane Eyre _ yet?”

Shepard frowned but nodded. Why wasn’t Anderson answering her questions? “Yeah, three times.”

Anderson looked at her pointedly. “Listen, I was thinking the other day about the seventy-second division. Do you remember how many men they lost? Was is twelve? Or five? I can’t recall.”

“Wha--oh. Ah, five, I believe.” Shepard quickly wrote down the numbers. Even if she was alone, it was ignorant to assume that their conversation went completely unmonitored.

“Of course. You met them right? Back in ‘twenty-two? When HQ was on eighth and second?”

The conversation flowed stiltedly as Anderson passed her a new code to break, longer this time. He then went on to tell a very long story about rations during the war so she that had a chance to quickly decode it. MAKE FRIENDS GAIN TRUST. 

She frowned. “You can’t be serious,” she said when he finished his story.

“Of course I’m serious.”

“Anderson… you don’t understand what I’m surrounded by.”

“Even still. You must.” He frowned. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

“What?! Why?”

“We agreed it would be best to keep these calls short.”

“Who’s we? I didn’t agree to that!”

“Call again when you get a chance, Shepard.”

“No, no, wait! Anderson,  _ please! _ ”

“Good-bye.”

And the screen went dark again. Shepard stared at her reflection. She’d been looking forward to this call for nine days and it had been less than five minutes long. The sense of just how alone she really was overwhelmed her, impossible to ignore. She put her head down on the desk and just focused on her breathing for a long while.

Sometime later, a chime sounded through the house. Shepard looked around the office, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She checked the bedroom and noticed through the windows that a different vehicle was parked down on the drive. The chime sounded again. Cautiously, she approached the front door. There wasn’t a way to see who was on the other side, so pushing aside the sense that this was a terrible idea, she opened the door.

Standing on the front stoop was a female turian. She had on a strikingly purple tunic and had the same blue face markings at the Major.

“Jane Shepard?” she asked.

“Yes?” Shepard suddenly realized that she’d seen her before, at the wedding.

“Hi, I’m Solana Vakarian. Garrus’ sister?”

“Right.” Shepard looked back into the empty house. “Um, he’s not here right now.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I wanted to meet you.”

“Oh, well… come in then.” Shepard stepped back and let Solana enter. It felt like she was inviting her into someone else’s house, not her own. 

Shepard stepped around Solana into the living room, quickly picking up her pillow and blanket from the night before off the couch. “Sorry about the mess, wasn’t really expecting company.”

“Don’t worry about it. I like to show up unannounced.”

Shepard tossed them into an empty corner and turned back to look at her. “Can I get you anything? Uh… I think there’s…” Remembering that Solana wouldn’t be able to drink anything Shepard had, and that she had no clue what the Major had, she paused. “...Water?”

“Typically, if it’s close friends or family, you don’t offer hospitality. Because you should be comfortable to help yourself.” She breezed into the kitchen, Shepard drifting after her.

“Oh. Good.”

 

It had been less than five hours when Garrus turned back into the driveway of the house. And that was only because he’d wasted four of those hours at grocery stores buying food he didn’t really need. He parked behind Sol’s car and fought back a sigh. Of course she’d stopped by today.

Unsure of what to expect on the other side, he opened the front door. However he was greeted, strangely enough, by the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. He recognized his sister’s, but it seemed that the Commander was laughing too. It sounded different, like pealing bells. Though as soon as he came around the corner, all laughter ceased. Solana smiled at him. But the Commander just sat up, the smile quickly dying on her face.

“You’re home early,” Solana commented, watching him set bags on the counter. “We were just talking about you.”

“Nice of you to stop by, Sol.” His subvocals said the exact opposite. 

The two of them had obviously had a very leisurely time together. There were empty dishes in front of them and evidence of cooking around the kitchen.

“Well, of course. I had to see my baby brother and his new mate.” He glanced at the Commander, who seemed perfectly comfortable with Sol. Leave it to his sister to break through barriers in a matter of hours. “Who, by the way, is great. Spirits, the Generals sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

The Commander coughed into her glass, her face turning pink. “Sorry,” she said, hoarsely. She coughed again. “Went down the wrong tube.”

He wondered what in the blazes that meant. But he didn’t ask, just started putting away groceries.

“Has he told you about the time he tried to outrun a varren when we were camping?” Solana asked her, conspiratorially grinning.

“He has not,” she replied, diplomatically.

“Ooh! Well--”

“Are you staying for dinner, Sol?” he interrupted, shutting a cabinet with his foot.

“I am. ...Unless I’d be intruding?” 

“No, not at all,” the Commander answered before he could. Odd. But she was deliberately not looking at him. 

Solana smiled at her. “Great. Because Dad and Mom are coming too.”

“What?” the Commander and Garrus said at the same time.

Solana looked unphased. “They really want to meet her.”

Garrus groaned and pressed a hand against his forehead, feeling a headache rapidly approaching. He loved his parents, sure, but trying to balance them and his sister AND the Commander was a recipe for chaos. 

“Solana, you understand that this,” she waved a hand between him and her. “Was a political union, right?” the Commander asked, addressing the awkwardness head on. Thankfully. “You don’t have to pretend it’s not. I know  _ I _ don’t mind.”

“No, I know. But it doesn’t really matter how you joined, you’re a Vakarian now. You’re one of us.”

Garrus observed the Commander carefully. She didn’t seem to know what to think about that.

“Can I talk to the Major for a moment? Alone?”

Sol looked between the two of them. “Sure.” And she sauntered out of the room, but not before turning around behind the Commander and mouthing ‘Major?’ at him. Solana was too astute for her own damn good; of course she wouldn’t have missed that.

“I’m correct to assume that meeting your parents is important,” the Commander said in a lowered voice.

Garrus sighed. “It’s… My sister doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“Couldn’t we just cancel? Ask them not to come?”

“No, not after the invitation’s been made and accepted.”

“Are…” She paused for a second. “Are they going to be like her? Treat this like… like a real couple?”

“Solana does as Solana pleases. But my parents are more… traditional. They’ll be polite.”

She nodded slowly. “What are they like?”

He found himself momentarily unable to answer. He really hadn’t expected her to care enough to ask. “Ah… My mother was an analyst for High Command and my father was a detective at C-Sec for many years. But he took early retirement when my mother went into the hospital last spring.”

She looked at him for a moment. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know.” 

“Yes. Well...” He looked away from her. “We don’t really know each other.”

“I suppose not.” She frowned and looked down at her hands; she was twisting the ring he’d given her around her finger.

He sighed. “Look, if you get my mother to tell you stories about Sol and I when we were kids and  _ don’t _ mention the war to my father, this evening will be relatively painless.”

She held his gaze for a moment. “Alright.”


	6. Double Time

Shepard jumped as the door chime sounded a few hours later. The Major immediately went to get the door. Solana at least gave her a sympathetic smile before following after him. Shepard stood and smoothed the shirt on the only not-casual-not-wedding-dress outfit she owned. She’d had boyfriends before, but she’d never made it this far. She’d never done the whole meet the parents routine. God, it felt like she was going to throw up.

She watched the Vakarians greet each other, warm and affectionate. Their mother briefly touching her forehead to her children’s. It was obvious the connection between the group. The Major resembled his father very closely. Though, Shepard realized as he helped her into a seat in the living room, he had his mother’s eyes. Shepard hung back, feeling like she was intruding on a close family gathering. Which in a way was exactly what she was doing.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” their mother asked the Major, glancing over at Shepard. Oh, boy. That was her cue. She couldn’t help but stand at attention, old habits died hard.

“Of course.” The Major went and stood next to her. “This is… Commander Jane Shepard.” He looked down at her. “And these are my parents, Castis and Galena Vakarian.”

Shepard smiled and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Behind them Solana cleared her throat lightly and shook her head. Shepard quickly retracted her hand.  _ Shit. _

Castis maintained a stoic expression, but Galena smiled a little back.

“Would you like us to call you Commander?” she asked.

“Uh, Shepard. Please. I’m not a Commander anymore and most everyone calls me Shepard… Mrs. Vakarian.”

Her smile grew broader. “Oh, very formal. Galena, please.”

“Galena,” Shepard repeated. She glanced at Castis, who offered no such comfort. 

Thankfully, Solana stepped in. “Well, I think dinner’s ready, if we all want to make our way into the dining room.”

Solana disappeared off to the kitchen and the Major helped his mother stand. That left Shepard and Castis to bring up the rear. 

He cooly observed her, every bit still the detective no matter what sort of retirement he took. She could only imagine what he was able to infer from her appearance alone. Social niceties may have been unfamiliar territory, but Shepard knew an intimidation tactic when she saw one. And she was not to be trifled with. So she squared up and observed him right back. He was like a statue, not so much as a mandible twitched. Tall, like his son, but not as broad with the same blue markings across the tops of his cheeks as Solana and the Major. He was the first to break their staring contest by glancing out to the hall. Hah.

She turned to look and there was the Major. 

“Dinner’s on the table,” he said, looking at her with--if she wasn’t mistaken--a slightly awed expression.

Shepard just nodded to Castis and went into the dining room. Maybe not a complete success, but not a lost battle either. The two of them came into the room a moment later. 

The start of the meal was quiet. She pushed around her unfamiliar food, different than the rest of theirs but something that Solana assured her she could eat. Shepard wasn’t sure if this was how all turian meals went, or if it was because of her presence. But after the mess up with the handshake, she wasn’t about to say anything.

“So, Shepard,” Castis, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence. “Where on Earth are you from?”

“Canada. A city there called Vancouver.”

Castis nodded. “That’s where your Alliance headquarters is, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have family there?” Galena asked.

“Uh, probably.” Now why had she said that? Her nerves were returning full-force.

“Do you not know for certain?” Castis asked.

“No, I don’t.” Oh great. Overwhelming honesty, that’s what this dinner party was missing. Every face at the table was looking at her. “I never knew my family--my parents.”

“Is that common with humans?” Galena asked, something like concern on her face.

Shepard shook her head. “No, most humans know their families. I was…” She took a breath. She rarely ever told this story and certainly not at a first meeting but it was too late to back out now. “Ah, I was given up. At birth. Raised by the state.” Even the Major was looking at her with some mixture of horror and pity. “It’s fine, really. I had some rough goings, but I joined the Alliance when I was eighteen and never looked back. So I suppose, they’re my family.” She tried to smile a little.

Galena nodded. Solana just looked down at her plate. Shepard didn’t dare look at the Major, though. She didn’t want his pity. Certainly not for something that happened before she could remember.

“So how do you like Palaven?” Galena asked, thankfully steering them back to calmer waters.

“It’s… different.” Shepard said, taking time to choose polite words. “After basic, I went to officers training down in New Mexico and it reminds me of there.”

“You should have Garrus take you out to the valley. It’s beautiful at sunset. We’d take the kids camping there when they were small.”

“Dragging us kicking and screaming is more like,” the Major added, a wry smile on his face.

“Hey, we liked it when we were kids. But last time we went, we were twenty-two and nineteen. Not exactly kids anymore,” Solana jumped in.

The Major’s advice from earlier came to mind. “Solana mentioned a camping story.” Shepard looked between them. “Something about outrunning a varren?”

Galena laughed. “Oh, I’ll never forget that trip.”

“Neither will Garrus.” Solana smiled.

 

Of all the ways Garrus expected the evening to go, calm was not one of them. Frankly, he’d be lucky if he avoided things coming to blows. It started fine enough. Mom had better color than the last time he saw her. She must have finally gotten over that cold she had a few weeks ago. He could tell his father was impressed by the new house. But then it all came to a screeching halt when the Commander tried to shake his parents’ hands. Far, far too familiar a gesture for a first meeting.

Sol stepped in and guided the party to the dining room. He put his arm behind his mother’s back and held her hand into the dining room.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “She shouldn’t have--”

“Don’t worry about it. It seemed well meant.” She patted his cheek as she sat. It made him feel like a child again, but in the best way. When he looked up, his father and the Commander weren’t in the room. 

A feeling of dread filling his stomach, he quickly went back to the living room. And there were his father and the Commander going figuratively toe-to-toe. He was doing his best to stare her down, but astoundingly she wasn’t giving him an inch. Over the years, Garrus had brought back a few girls to meet his parents, but none had ever been so bold as to not immediately acquiesce to his father’s judgements. Much less give back what they were given.

Garrus let out a low tone of warning, not wanting this little contest to grow into anything more hostile. His father acknowledged it, relaxing ever so slightly. The Commander nodded and breezed past the two of them to go into the dining room. They both watched her go. His father stopped by his shoulder. It was a prolonged moment before he spoke.

“I can see where her reputation comes from,” he said simply and then went into the dining room. 

The food was excellent. He and Sol had put their heads together to make a family favorite. She’d even whipped up an asari recipe an old girlfriend had taught her for the Commander. But that didn’t make the meal less awkward. Sol kept trying to get him to say something, but he had no clue where to even begin.

“So, Shepard.” Spirits. Of course his father would be the one to start them off. Ready to pick up right where he’d been interrupted in the living room. “Where on Earth are you from?”

“Canada. A city there called Vancouver.”

“That’s where your Alliance headquarters is, correct?” The Commander couldn’t hear the disdain rumbling in his voice, but the rest of them certainly could. Solana answered back with a warning.

“Yes.”

“Do you have family there?” Thank the Spirits, his mother stepped in. No ulterior meanings in her voice, just making polite conversation.

“Uh, probably.” 

Garrus glanced at the Commander. What kind of an answer was that?

“Do you not know for certain?” His father asked, sarcastic amusement rolling off of him.

“No, I don’t. I never knew my family--my parents.”

You could have heard a leaf fall off a tree as the four of them stared at her. 

“Is that common with humans?” A worried tone in his mother’s voice.

The Commander shook her head. “No, most humans know their families. I was… ah, I was given up at birth. Raised by the state. I had some rough goings but I joined the Alliance when I was eighteen and never looked back. So I suppose, they’re my family.”

_ How very turian _ , Garrus thought quietly to himself, turning back to his food. His earlier comment about how little they really knew about each other returned to mind. The Commander was certainly more than met the eye. 

The rest of dinner went smoother than before, staying clear of any more personal revelations. Solana regaled them all with a long story from her job. But it was interesting enough. And by the end of the meal, he trusted his mother and the Commander enough to stay on a calm course of conversation without supervision. So he helped Sol clean up the kitchen.

“You know, I think that went pretty well,” Garrus said quietly, handing a clean plate to Solana next to him for her to dry. She gave him a suspicious glance. “What?”

“Were you at the same dinner I was?” She set it back in the cabinet.

He huffed a breath. “It wasn’t great, but it didn’t come to blows.”

“ _ That _ is your measure of success?” she asked a little too loud. He gave her a look. Their parents and the Commander were just in the other room.

“Fine, then how would you describe it?”

“She tried to shake their hand and then told us she was a  _ foundling _ .” She shook her head, a thin embarrassed hum coming from her. “Spirits, Garrus! It went even worse than the time you brought back that Octatius girl.”

That was a dark day in the Vakarian household. Garrus ducked his head with the lingering embarrassment even still years later.

“But you know,” Sol continued. “I don’t blame her. I blame  _ you _ .”

“Me?” He said too loudly. 

She quickly dried her hands on a towel and opened the door that led to the deck out back. She pointed forcefully. He sighed and went outside; she shut the door behind them.

“Let me ask you something.” She folded her arms, rumbling reproachfully. “Have you even spoken to Shepard since the bonding ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“For a conversation that lasted longer than one minute and didn’t end with one of you angry?”

He thought quickly. “We spoke when you left the room earlier.” She growled at him. “Fine, no. No, we haven’t really spoken. But how are her actions at dinner my fault?”

“Because you haven’t told her how anything works at all!” She shook her head in disbelief. “This afternoon, she didn’t know who I was in the slightest, she had no idea what Seclusion was, she had no clue where you’d gone off to. Of course she tried to shake their hand! She has been dropped in the middle of a minefield and her guide refuses to speak to her.”

Garrus turned away and leaned against the railing, gripping the smooth metal tightly.

“I know you’re not happy, but you’re being a child,” she added.

“Conversations go two ways,” he retorted. “She could have asked.”

“And you could have just talked her in the first place. Spirits, Garrus, she’s your mate!”

“She is  _ not _ my mate.”

“Yes, she is. Maybe not the in way that most people think about it. But legally and socially, she is your mate. You are responsible for her well being and her happiness. And from what I saw this afternoon, you’re doing a shit job at maintaining both.”

“What about  _ my _ well being and happiness?”

“Oh, grow up. You’re not the one thousands of lightyears away from every other person you’ve ever known.” She paused and went to stand by him, looking at him carefully. “You still have your friends, your family, your job. But for Shepard,  _ you _ are all she has right now.”

Garrus didn’t reply, just stared down at his pale knuckled grip on the railing. 

Solana sighed. “Look, I know that this is not a typical couple, that you didn’t want this really. Neither of you did. But you’d both be a lot happier if you were at least civil to each other. Maybe you could even be friends.” He gave her a disbelieving look, but she didn’t cave. “I wasn’t joking when I said she was great. We only spent two hours together and I could already tell. You have more in common than you think.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

“You will have to find that out for yourself.”

He let out a low rumble of frustration. “Fine. I can... make peace.”

Sol nodded. “Good.”

Their parents headed out not too long after that and Sol left at the same time. The Commander and Garrus saw them to their vehicles, waving as they headed down the long drive and turned out of sight.

The familiar silence between them started to creep back in. Until, unexpectedly, she broke it. “I feel like that was a bit of a mixed bag.”

He glanced down at her. “It could have been worse.”

“Next time, I’ll remember not to shake anyone’s hand.” She shook her head slightly. “Mortifying.”

“If nothing else, my sister seems to like you and that’s always a good place to start.”

She looked up at him and smiled a little. He was pretty sure that was the first smile he’d ever received from her. She turned and went into the house. He let her go.

He could make friends with Shepard. Or at least pretend to make enough friends that he could get the information the Hierarchy was after. And then perhaps he could be free of this nightmare.


	7. Close-Quarters Combat

Shepard poured the boiling water into her mug, stirring quickly to dissolve the ‘coffee’ she’d discovered in the kitchen a few days ago. At least, she hoped it was coffee. It was a strange, dark powder in an oddly colored package. Only half the text was in Turian, not that she could read either. But it was levo and provided a similar effect to caffeine, so it was already part of her morning routine.

She stirred it absent-mindedly as her thoughts drifted back to the day before. She pushed past the dinner; there was no sense in dwelling on past mistakes. Anderson’s missive came to mind again. She’d thought about it most of the night. If only he’d let her talk to him longer, she could explain how he was asking the impossible. She couldn’t befriend the Major. Until last evening she’d hardly spoken to him.

Memories of Mars rose to the surface before she quickly pushed them back down. This wasn’t the first time that the Alliance had asked the impossible of her and she didn’t want it to be the last either. Discharge or no discharge, if she had anything to say about it, it wasn’t going to be the last. So she would do as they asked. Because she was Commander Fucking Shepard. Nothing could stand between her and a completed mission, be it hell, high water, or her husband.

“Could you pass me a spoon?” Garrus asked, suddenly behind her. She jolted out of her reverie. He raised an eyebrow plate at her. She quickly recovered and pulled a spoon from the drawer, passing it to him.

She expected him to leave, but instead he sat at one of the stools that were too tall for her on the opposite side of the counter. She glanced at him. Well, time to make good on her morning resolution.

“Do you have work today?” she asked. Her voice sounded too loud in the quiet kitchen. He looked up from his food, blinked a few times before answering.

“No, not today.” 

She nodded slowly and took a thoughtful sip. He went back to eating. The silence resumed. This was going to be like pulling teeth. What in the hell was she even supposed to talk to him about?  _ Yes, hi, could you explain Palaven’s military history in explicit detail, and any schematics you have of orbital defenses would be most helpful, thanks honey-bun, _ she thought sarcastically. 

How did people even make friends? The only friends she still had were her squadmates, and she doubted she’d be able to whip up a battle real fast to forge this particular bond. Maybe they should do something together, like an activity. A thought occurred to her.

“Garrus, I’m allowed to leave the house, right?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“And do I have… money?”

“Your name has been added to my accounts. Your stipend from the Alliance is deposited there. Actually,” he stood and quickly rifled through a small pile of papers at the end of the counter. He pulled out an envelope and slid it across the counter to her. “There, your credit chit.”

She pulled out the card. It was metallic and felt too large for her hand. She slid it into her pocket and decided to just take the plunge.

“Would you like to go shopping today? Together?”

Garrus looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”

Shepard didn’t realize how good it would feel to see the neighborhood shrinking in view behind them. She rolled down her window and leaned out, letting the warm breeze rush over her face and tangle her hair. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was home. Vancouver rarely got this warm, but New Mexico did. The heat would rise and make the mountains in the distance warble as the sun set behind them. She could practically smell the cooling ground, hear the coyotes call to one another.

When she opened her eyes, Garrus was watching her. He quickly turned back to focus on the road. 

Feeling a little self-conscious, she sat back and rolled the window up. “Is it always warm like this on Palaven?”

“Today’s pretty cool actually.”

“It has be to at least 30.”

“In the summer it can get up to 50 easily.”

Shepard was suddenly very thankful for the climate control in the house. She watched the buildings fly past their vehicle. They slowed down as they reached a sort of commercial district. Many pedestrians and tight streets, businesses with large windows and flashing text, it was a stark contrast to their quiet neighborhood but not wholly unfamiliar. She watched the people walking past and she did a double take.

“What is that?” She turned in her seat to look out the back windows.

“What?”

“The… That blue woman?”

Garrus turned to look too. “You mean the asari?”

“The what?”

“The asari?”

She gave him a blank look. “What’s asari?”

He gave her a blank look back. “What do you mean? She’s an asari.” He turned back to face forward and drove a little further down the road.

“Is that another type of turian?”

“No, it’s another species from Thessia. What? Did you think that humans and turians were the only sentient races in the galaxy?”

That was exactly what she thought, what the Alliance thought. Or rather, with things going so poorly with the turians, Earth wasn’t exactly rushing to search out other species. One devastating intergalactic war at a time.

“Turians are the only ones we’ve seen,” she said, trying to recoup a little dignity. “How many other species are out there?”

He shook his head. “Quite a few. There’s salarian and quarian. Krogan, batarian, hanar. And more beyond that too.”

She tried to wrap her head around this suddenly much larger galaxy. “Can they all be found here on Palaven?”

“Unless you start hanging around the spaceports or the base, I doubt you’ll see anything other than asari.”

“Huh. Interesting.” She made a mental note to pass this new found information to Anderson when she got a chance.

While Garrus parked, Shepard waited on the sidewalk. People passing by looked at her strangely. They kept giving her a wide berth while outright staring.

“I’m the only human these people have ever seen, aren’t I?” she said when Garrus returned. They watched a pair of young female turians cross the street to avoid her. 

“Did you have somewhere in particular you wanted to go?” he asked instead, starting off down the road.

Trying to ignore the onlookers, she matched his pace. “A bookstore?”

He nodded and jogged across the street. She had to take twice as many steps as he did, but she kept up with him. He led her down a block and then into a store.

A chime sounded as they entered. Tall rows of shelves filled with meticulously organized books lined the walls and made very neat aisles through which people meandered. She wandered down an aisle, hoping that she’d recognize what she was looking for when she saw it. Garrus followed behind. She stared blankly at the books on the shelf for a few minutes. Well, crap.

A couple children ran past them to the end of the aisle. Shepard followed them at a safe distance and they led them to the back corner of the store. The books were more colorful here, the text larger, the shelves lower.

She crouched down to look over the titles. Even with the ostensibly simpler words, she still had no clue what she was looking at.

“What are you looking for?” Garrus asked. 

She looked up at him towering on the other side of the shelf. “Are there books about learning to read?” she asked quietly. 

He came around to the other side of the shelf and crouched down next to her. He glanced over the shelf and pulled off a blue bound book. “Here.” He handed it to her. 

She opened it. There was some sort of alphabet at the front and then pictures with words next to them. It reminded her of books she read as a kid, except the scene was of Palaven instead of a town populated by anthropomorphic cats and worms driving apple cars. In the back, there were worksheets to practice writing the letters in the front. 

“Perfect.” 

He suddenly looked behind them. A mother was obviously not happy that there was a human in the children’s section, if her expression was anything to go by. They both quickly stood, made their purchase, and left.

“Anywhere else?” he asked when they were outside again. 

She squinted in the sun and looked up and down the street. “Do you think there’d be a place I could get some clothes?”

He frowned, then pointed at a store front down the block. “The asari store there may have something.”

“Great. I’ll meet you back here in an hour?” And she took off walking without waiting for a reply. 

The store was quiet and blessedly empty as she walked in. Racks of clothing were scattered about, in between blue skinned mannequins wearing colorful and form-fitting clothes. It smelled like ...well, like something she’d never smelled before. Floral, yet earthy. 

“Be with you in a moment!” A voice came from the back. Shepard perused a rack of shirts. The fabrics felt smoother than silk across her fingers and oddly stretchy. 

A moment later another asari appeared, a pleasant smile on her blue face.

“Hello.” She looked Shepard up and down for a moment. “Wait, you’re human, right? I heard that one was here on Palaven.”

Oh, great. The Palaven gossip mill was already going strong.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Shepard said, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Keslia. What can I help you with today?”

“Ah, I’m looking for some clothes. I didn’t pack enough from back home.”

“Sure thing. We have a wide selection of all different styles, we also do custom orders.  _ And _ we’re having a sale this week on our collarbone revealing nighties, if you’re looking to spice things up with that special someone.” She winked.

“No! No, no thank you. We… uh, already have plenty of--Really? Collarbones?”

Keslia nodded knowingly.

 

Garrus double checked the time on his omnitool and looked up and down the street. Shepard was supposed to be here a few minutes ago. She didn’t strike him as the non-punctual type. He watched the crowds move about their business, but no Shepard appeared. Sighing a little, he set off to look for her. How hard could it be to find one human in a sea of turians? 

He went down to the store he’d told her about and looked in the window. There wasn’t anyone inside save an asari folding a few shirts. Where else would she have gone? He wandered up the street a little. 

He caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Soon after he spotted her amongst the crowd. She was a few stores down. Was she talking to those turians? He headed towards them and got a read on their body language. No, she was being threatened by those two. He quickly ran to them and appeared behind her shoulder. 

“Gentlemen,” he said with a low tone of warning. 

They looked at him with twin sneers. “Step off, asshole, we’re not bothering you,” one of them said, insult rumbling from him.

“Yeah, we were just telling this human trash that she’s not welcome here.”

Shepard stepped forward. He could practically see the rage boiling under her skin. He quickly put himself between her and them as they laughed.

“Come on. Let’s just go,” he said to her. She glared up at him, eyes flashing. But she huffed a breath and turned around. He gave the two another growl of warning and followed after her.

“That’s it. Get out of here.”

“And keep your varren on a leash next time!” they shouted after them.

Garrus almost wasn’t fast enough. He just barely caught Shepard as she leapt back towards them. He gripped an arm around her waist as she swore at them in words that didn’t translate. They jumped back in fear but then laughed again as he restrained her. They wouldn’t be laughing if they knew how bare a hold he had on her. She was surprisingly strong.

“Shepard!” He put her feet back on the ground and tried to catch her gaze. “Shepard, they’re not worth it.”

Her eyes were irate. Her jaw clenched tightly. For a split-second, he thought she’d just bowl him over to get to them. But she stayed in place, shaking slightly. Gently, he turned her around by the shoulders and pushed her away from the bullies. He grabbed her bags from the ground and quickly took them back to the car.

It was a shame. Up until the confrontation, it had been a mildly pleasant afternoon. She’d looked so peaceful when they’d driven away, basking in the sun with the wind in her fringe. Now she quietly fumed on the drive back to the house. He wondered if it was wise to talk to her at all, but he felt like he needed to say something.

“Did they hurt you?”

She shot him a reproachful look. “Please. They just wanted to make me feel scared.” She muttered something that his translator didn’t quite catch, but he could make a pretty good guess of what she said by her low aggressive tone. 

“They don’t know how lucky they were,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. She glanced at him, a little confused. “You looked like you were about to incinerate them where they stood.”

She frowned and looked forward again. “That’d be a little difficult these days, but sure.”

He glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

She heaved a breath. “My ability to incinerate was from my omnitool and that was military issue. So when they discharged me, they took it back. Gave me a civilian one instead.” She flexed her left wrist unconsciously. 

She’d mentioned at dinner that she wasn’t a Commander anymore, but he hadn’t really put two and two together. Not that it changed much about her as a person, but stripping her of her rank was more symbolic than practical. A reminder to the Alliance of who held the power.

He glanced at her. “That must have been frustrating.”

She looked over at him. “It is what it is. There were more important things to be frustrated about.” A hint of a wry smile appeared in her eyes. 

He had to chuckle. “That I understand.”


	8. Reconnaissance

It always took Shepard twice as long as it should to figure out the buttons on the treadmill. Even after discovering there was a whole lower floor of the house with a fully equipped gym over a week ago, she still found the button array confounding. She gave up trying to program a workout and just turned it on, starting at a slower pace to warm up.

A few minutes later, Garrus came down the stairs. She nodded to him. He twitched a mandible in greeting and then went to use another machine. They hadn’t completely buried the hatchet, but at least neither of them were actively brandishing one anymore. They could stand to be in the same room and even engage in small talk. A far cry from eight days of stony silence. But still not friends.

Garrus came and stood on the treadmill next to hers. He rapidly typed on the display and the machine merrily started up for him immediately. She’d just started figuring out the Turian alphabet, but she knew the number system well enough to know that he had put his machine exactly one point faster than hers. She couldn’t determine whether it was intentional or not.

He started casually jogging next to her. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asked.  

She waited till he was looking away and reached forward. She sped up by two points. “Yeah, just fine. You?”

“Yes.” They jogged side by side for a minute. She stretched her arm across her torso and when she glanced back over he had sped up by two points as well.

“That’s good.” She had to wait several minutes before he looked out the back windows so she could speed up by two more points.

“The weather’s supposed to be nice today,” he said. 

“It was a little warm yesterday,” she replied. It seemed like he didn’t notice, or didn’t care anymore that she was going faster than he was. She tested him by pretending to be very fascinated with the machine next to her. And when she turned back, he was going two points faster. She glanced up at him, but he looked very casual. 

She didn’t wait this time for him to look away, just sped up again. “Oh, I’m running low on levo coffee, could you pick some up from the store?”

He cooly observed her movement. “Of course. I need to get some things myself.” He sped up by two points.

She pursed her lips and sped up again by two more points.

He made eye contact and reached forward, speeding up four points. She made hers five points faster, her jog rapidly turning into a run. He sped up and so did she matching point for point, faster and faster.

“This is childish,” he said as they were both flat out running.

“Then slow down.” She raised the speed again, pumping her arms and working hard to control her breathing.

“Hah. Not on your life.” He sped up again and she groaned but matched him. These treadmills definitely went faster than any others she had ever used before. Her face was turning red and sweat poured down her sides. “Getting tired, Commander?”

“Not in the slightest,” she barely managed. Damn him, he wasn’t turning into a sopping wet wreck. His long legs halved the amount of strides he had to take to keep up with her. A stitch was forming in her side. “This is… just a… warm up.”

He grinned at her and increased the speed again. She focused on just staying upright for a second. Then she reached forward and hit the button. Suddenly, her world was turned upside down. She tripped. The treadmill threw her backwards. And she skidded to a stop on the other side of the room.

“Spirits!” She heard Garrus stop both treadmills and his face appeared in her vision, his mandibles flickering back and forth. “Shepard, are you alright?”

She blinked, her whole right side already complaining with the promise of many bruises. For a moment she just stared up at the ceiling, watching his head circle above her. But then all at once, it hit her. And she laughed, long and loud, which just made her lose her breath again. But it was absolutely worth it, she hadn’t laughed like that since leaving Earth.

“I-I’m fine.” She started to sit up and her head spun more. She dropped back down. “Whoa. Not getting up though.” She still was chuckling.

“You sure you’re okay?” 

She nodded. “I’m just gonna lie down on the floor here for a while.” She patted the cool tile under her and laughed some more.

“You really caught some air there.” He grinned a little.

“This is nothing.” She finally caught her breath, though her heart was still pounding. “I should tell you about the time Alenko and I drank forty ounces of malt liquor and then raced through an obstacle course.”

“What happened?”

She thought. “We drank forty ounces of malt liquor and then raced through an obstacle course. Surprisingly, the rope swing was the most difficult part. He sailed like a beautiful swan and then landed like a sack of potatoes. Vega still has the video.”

“Who won?”

“He did. But only because I got my hair caught on barbed wire.” She chuckled. “They had to cut me free. Had the weirdest hairdo for weeks.”

Slowly, she sat up. He handed her her water bottle and then returned to his work out. She stretched, gently pressing against her sore side. Definitely some bruises coming her way, but she found that she didn’t regret it one bit.

“I have to go to the base this morning for a few hours. Did you want to do something after?” he asked.

“Sure. I’d love to get out of the house.” She leaned forward and grabbed her toes with one hand, stretching her other arm in an arc in the same direction.

“Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

She thought for a second. “Dealer’s choice.”

 

Garrus stayed near to Shepard as they walked across the wide plaza. The heart of Cipritine’s business district was busy. People rushed to and fro in a mad dash. He’d hoped that would mean that people would pay her less mind than the last time they’d ventured out of the house. So far, it appeared his hunch was proving true. Even still, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. 

“So what is this building again?” she asked, holding a hand up to shade her eyes as she looked at the wide columned structure.

“Well, the building was built by clans Tulius and Gerou after their war almost four thousand years ago so it’s had many uses.” They walked up the wide front steps to the doors. “But about three centuries ago, it was turned into a museum.”

A school group formed neat lines by the entrance as instructors took attendance. Shepard watched them with a bemused expression on her face as she followed him inside.

Tall ceilings and walls made of marble and granite echoed the footsteps of the many guests. Soft blue light filtered through specially designed windows in the ceiling.

Shepard looked around appreciatively. “What kind of museum?”

“Art.”

She looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know turians did… art.”

“The history museum complex is much larger and more extensive. And the martial museums even more so than that, but I’ve always preferred this one.”

She picked up a map and took a moment to look it over. “So where do we start?”

“This way.” 

They headed into one of the halls. Sculptures were scattered around the space, strategically lit to highlight their graceful lines and subdued colors. There were a few new pieces, but largely the collection remained the same. He always found it comforting, like coming back to visit old friends.

“Does Earth have an art museum?” he asked as they both admired a large twisting steel construction.

She let out a short laugh. “Not just one… hundreds. The Louvre, the Met, the Tate. Basically every major city has at least one, sometimes more.” 

He followed her around the corner to a gallery lined with paintings. “Artistic expression is very important to Humanity then,” he observed.

She nodded, taking a moment to study a pastoral scene before continuing on. “Really, any form of self expression. Art, music, dance, writing--it’s all… paramount.”

“Wouldn’t it get noisy? With everyone expressing so much?”

She smiled a little. “I suppose it could seem that way. But it doesn’t feel like that.” She stopped at the intersection where the hall ended in a T. He led them to the right to another gallery with more paintings.

“What does it feel like?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She looked at him briefly and thought for a moment. “It feels… vibrant. It feels alive. You can feel the pulse of the city by just walking down the street.”

He wasn’t quite sure he understood what she meant. But he let it go. They walked through a few more galleries, moving from paintings to busts. She asked the story behind each one and he did his best to supply. They were mostly famous Generals, important Primarchs, a few figures from lore. Though several times he couldn’t recall who they were supposed to be.

“Now why are these bigger than the others?” she asked, gesturing ahead of them. Two very severe busts of dark granite faced each other on either side of the wide doorway at the end of the gallery. This one he actually knew.

“Those are the chieftains of the clans that built the building. Tulius and Gerou.” He pointed to one then the other. “They had a very long bitter war. So when a peace was finally achieved, they built this building to cement the new bond between the two.”

“Is that common?” she asked.

He nodded. “Many famous buildings around Palaven were built that way. Though it’s not so common anymore. Once we started planting colonies, the clan identity died away.”

“Interesting.”

“What do humans do after achieving peace?”

She looked at the busts and thought. “Usually, have another war about the same exact thing a generation later.”

“That sounds counter-productive.”

“It is. Though, sometimes instead we brutally subjugate the losing side and erase all evidence of their cultural identity.” She sighed breezily and walked through the doorway to the next gallery. “But that’s not done as much anymore.”

He frowned. Turians were fierce warriors, but what she was describing sounded out-right barbaric. However, he was fairly certain she was being sarcastic in her casual treatment of their tactics.

“Actually,” she continued. “Arranged marriage was used to broker peace centuries and centuries ago. It was insurance that the other leader wouldn’t attack or else their child’s life could be forfeit.”

“So the child was a hostage.”

She admired a very tall sculpture. “A hostage with a crown, yes.” 

Garrus carefully observed her for a minute. He wondered if she felt the same. For some reason the possibility bothered him a little.

“So is there a reason why you like this museum better?” she asked, turning away and moving towards a new gallery. They paused as the long line of students crossed in front of them. A small girl at the end stared at Shepard. Shepard waved to her and she waved back shyly. “Good field trip memories?”

“I’m not sure what a field trip is, but good memories, yes.” He stopped in front of his favorite painting. It wasn’t very famous or flashy, but he liked it all the same. “My mother often brought me here as a child. She knew all the stories behind the sculptures. And would explain the meanings of the paintings.”

Shepard looked at him and then went back to gazing at the painting. “Really?”

“Yes. She loves art. Though she’s much more fond of asari art, but it’s hard to find here on Palaven. Dad got her a piece for their anniversary a few years back. Hangs in the dining room.”

She smiled. “So what does this one mean?” Shepard tilted her head to the side as she looked at the painting before them.

“Mom always said it was an expression of the moment a ship breaks free of the atmosphere. But to me it feels like…” He stopped, trying to put his finger on the word he was searching for.

“Freedom,” Shepard finished.

He looked down at her and met her gaze. “Exactly.”


	9. Quick Time

“So what is this movie called?” Shepard asked, sitting down on the couch and tucking her feet under her knees.

“It’s called the best vid in the history of vids,” Solana answered cryptically as she fiddled with the large display.

“It’s called  _ Fleet and Flotilla _ ,” Garrus explained, handing a drink to Shepard before sitting on another chair and opening his own. “Sappy romance vid about a quarian-turian couple.”

“Quarians are the ones with the suits, right?” Shepard asked him in a hushed tone. He nodded.

“Oh, but it’s so much more than that!” Solana sat down next to Shepard and hit a few buttons on her omnitool. “It’s a story of passion and love triumphing over cultural barriers. Bellicus and Shalei are meant to be together, but their people are keeping them apart.”

“Like I said, sappy romance vid,” he said to Shepard, who chuckled.

“Says the man who owns the special edition with over fifteen hours of bonus features,” Solana retorted.

“It was on sale!”

“Whatever you say.” Solana sat back as the titles appeared on the screen.

“Tomorrow we’ll watch  _ Last of the Legion _ . That’s a good vid,” Garrus whispered to Shepard. She smiled and nodded.

“Shh! It’s starting.”

 

“Did I spell salarian correctly?” Shepard held out the sheet of paper she’d been diligently practicing on for most of the evening. Garrus glanced up from his datapad and nodded.

“Yes, that’s it.”

She copied it five more times further down the page, something she remembered doing in primary school. She wasn’t sure if her penmanship was improving by that much, but at least Garrus could read it now. She moved to the next word in her list, batarian, and began copying it down. A thought occurred to her.

“So with all these different races, is intergalactic war just the status quo?”

“There’s always conflict, but having the Council helps keep anything too large from springing up… again.” He hadn’t looked up from his datapad.

“The Council?” she asked, trying to keep a casual and mildly curious tone.

“Yeah, they’re sort of the head of intergalactic relations. Help maintain a semblance of peace and order.”

She copied batarian down again. “Are they on Thessia?”

“No. The Citadel. In the Serpent Nebula.”

She hummed quietly and didn’t ask anymore questions. He appeared deeply engrossed in whatever he was reading. She waited a few minutes more before leaving the room to go find her copy of  _ Jane Eyre. _

 

“ _ Voici _ ,” Shepard said, setting the plate down in front of Garrus. 

He looked at it for a minute before looking back at her. “What is it?” 

She’d been very secretive all afternoon, barring him from the kitchen on pain of death. And only letting him enter a few minutes ago.

“Solana said it was your favorite.”

“Oh.” Recognition dawned. “...What happened to it?” He poked at the food with his fork, the meat had the texture of charcoal. It clinked against the plate.

She frowned and pulled over the recipe. The page was covered in her hand-written translations and splatterings of sauce.

“Is the recipe wrong?” she mused, looking over it before handing it back to him. He looked it over. He couldn’t read her translations, but the recipe itself seemed fine. “It said to cook it at fifty for three hours.”

He smiled. “Oh, there. The numbers are backwards. 175 for fifty minutes, not the other way around.”

“Dammit.” She quickly scratched out her translation and fixed it with a sigh. He snickered which grew into a full body laugh.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, trying to calm down as she frowned. “I appreciate the effort. And really, this is still better than the food at the front. You could teach the chefs a thing or two.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Well… shall we order from the asari place?”

“I’ll get the menu.”

 

Garrus watched Shepard’s very serious face as she studied the board between them. Her eyebrows were knitted together as she rested her chin in her hand, tapping against her cheek with her thumb.

“It’s your turn,” he reminded her quietly.

“I know. I’m thinking.” She’d been thinking for almost five minutes, but he decided it would be better to not point that out. Finally, she reached out and moved one of her pieces two squares to the left. 

Immediately after, he moved one of his three squares over, blocking her path. She leaned forward again and resumed her memorization of the board.

“So not that I want to distract you from the execution of your master strategy here,” he started. “But I have something I’m curious about.”

Her eyes flickered up to his before returning to the board. “Yes?”

“How long has Humanity had FTL space travel?”

She looked a little surprised and reached for a piece, but then pulled her hand back and resumed study. “Around a century or so, I think.”

“That’s all?”

She looked up. “Yeah. Though I believe the theory was known before that, but it had to be tested before we could just start throwing people into spaceships.”

He waited a moment before asking, “Do you know how it was first theorized?”

“Well, it wasn’t so much theorized as found.” She moved one of her pieces. He moved one of his and captured the one she’d just moved. She frowned.

“What do you mean found?”

“We found it. In the ruins.” She looked back up at him. “Isn’t that how turians discovered FTL?” 

“No--what ruins?”

“The ruins on Mars,” she said it like he was supposed to know what she was talking about. “We found these ancient ruins of this really advanced society about a hundred and fifty years ago. That’s where we found the theory for FTL, eezo, omnitools, the existence of the relay system.” She reached and touched a piece but didn’t move it. “That discovery really changed everything. It’s why the Alliance was founded.”

Garrus fought very hard to keep a moderately interested expression and not betray the absolute shock at her revelation. Was she talking about he thought she was talking about? More importantly, did the Hierarchy know about this?

“I always thought it was strange though,” she continued. “As advanced as they were, they couldn’t keep themselves from being wiped out. I don’t think anyone’s figured out why.”

She moved her piece and leaned back.

“Do you know what they were called? The civilization?” he asked, forcing a casual tone. He moved a piece without paying much attention. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards.

“I know they told us in school…” She concentrated. “Oh. Prothean.” Spirits.

She picked up her piece and moved it quickly over the board. “I win.” She beamed at him. 

He blinked and looked down at the board. In one fell swoop, she’d captured all of his remaining pieces. “Nicely done.”

“See the key is, you can’t let yourself be distracted by fascinating company.” Her smile turned lopsided and she looked very satisfied with herself.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Shepard?” Garrus called as he entered the house. He shifted the box in his arms so it was easier to carry.

“Up here!” she replied, her voice carrying down the stairs. He followed the sound. She was folding her laundry in the bedroom. Neat piles were arranged at the foot of the bed. “Hi. What’s in the box?”

“I don’t actually know. It’s for you. Sol wanted me to give it you.” He set it down on the edge of the bed.

She put down the shirt she’d been folding and quickly opened the box. A smile spread across her face. “She remembered.”

Garrus looked over her shoulder and chuckled. The box was full of old books Sol and he had read as children. Shepard picked up a stack and he did as well.

“I told her I was working on learning to read and she said she had some books she could lend me.” She flipped open a cover and gasped. She turned it around to face him.

“Oh, spirits.” ‘Garrus Vakarian, Age 9’ was poorly written in the front cover in green marker.

“Let’s see what Garrus Vakarian, age nine, liked to read.” She turned the next page and took a moment to study the words, then her whole face lit up. “ _ Caelsio Capitagus: Child Cop _ ?? You read little detective stories when you were a kid?”

He felt the back of his neck turn bright blue. “Thank you so much, Sol,” he muttered.

“So what does Caelsio do to be a kid cop?”

“He solves a string of robberies on the Citadel…” he admitted begrudgingly. “And the Council gives him a medal.”

“This is better than I ever could have imagined.” She sounded downright gleeful. He gave her a flat look. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I read every single horse book the library had. Twice.”

“Is a horse some sort of… fearsome Earth animal?”

“No, they’re gentle creatures who can only be understood by willful young girls who train them to win the Triple Crown.”

“I understand all of those words separately.”

She laughed. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the first time he’d ever made her laugh. It was nice. She looked down at the book.

“Well, I’ll be sure to take good care of this, since Garrus Vakarian, age nine, was so kind as to lend it to me.”

“Here.” He held out his hand for the book and she handed it over. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine…?”

He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote quickly in the cover before turning it back around to face her. ‘Garrus Vakarian, Age 9 & Jane Shepard, Age 29’ was now written in the cover.

“I don’t think Garrus will mind,” he said with a smile as he handed it back to her. She smiled back.


	10. Friendly Fire

“So Nihlus says that vid,  _ C-Sec Academy, _ is actually pretty good,” Garrus said as he came down the stairs, adjusting his uniform. Shepard looked up from the chapter book she was reading on the couch. “Do you want to go see it tonight?”

“Yeah, sounds fun.”

He picked up the bag he always took with him to work. “I’ll be at the base for a few hours. Oh, did you need anything else from the store?”

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Okay. See you tonight.”

“Bye.” She waved as he left, the door hissing shut behind him, as it had nearly every morning since she’d arrived.

She’d been on Palaven almost four months by her count. Garrus and she were both settling into an easy routine. Honestly, at times it felt halfway normal. It would have been easier to pretend it was if she wasn’t continuously vigilant for any information she could pass on to Anderson. She still wasn’t sure if what she was finding was even useful. Anderson had said that really anything she could uncover about the galaxy at large would help, but it felt like she was throwing feathers into the wind.

She finished her book, one of the ones Solana had generously lent her, and went upstairs to return it to the pile. She stored it with the others in the office and sat in the chair at the desk, spinning it around slowly for a few minutes. This was the part about her life that still felt very strange. As long as she’d been an adult, and even a few years before that, she’d never not had a job. And she’d never expected ever in her life to not have one. She’d focused on learning to read to fill her time. Everyday it was coming easier and more fluently. But she was starting to get bored again.

Shepard stopped at the computer, wondering if she dialed him if Anderson would pick up. He probably wouldn’t, she wasn’t supposed to call for another couple of days. She grumbled and spun the chair back around again. 

Something caught her eye on the desk and she stopped. There was a small circle of a shiny metal in the top right corner on the front of the desk that she’d never noticed before. She leaned closer to examine it. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was a lock. The first non-electronic lock she’d seen on Palaven so far. She pushed on the drawer to open it and it didn’t budge. If there was a lock, there must be something worth locking inside. Perhaps whatever it was would be more useful than the finer points of the quarians’ conflict with the geth, which was all she currently had to pass on.

She quickly went to the bathroom and grabbed a hair pin from her toiletries. It had been a long time since she’d done this. She wondered if she even still remembered how. Or if Palaven locks worked the same as the ones on Earth. She slid the pin in and felt around for the tumblers. Luckily, it wasn’t too different. It still took her several minutes, but she smiled widely as the drawer slid open.

Inside were folders thick with many papers all in a very similar format. Her name appeared at the top of every sheet. Frowning, Shepard read as quickly as she could through the files. Her blood began to rush loudly in her ears as she realized what they were. They were reports to the Hierarchy on her. Listings of her daily activities, conversations she’d had. She found exact transcripts of every call she’d ever had with Anderson. And signed down at the bottom of every last damned page was his name, ‘Major Garrus Vakarian’.

“What are you doing?” his voice came from behind her.

Garrus had realized about ten minutes after arriving at work that he had left his daily reports back at the house. He hurried back to the house and didn’t think much of it when Shepard wasn’t in the living room as he passed by. He froze at the top of the stairs when he realized that she was in the office and the drawer where his reports were stored had been opened. It felt like the temperature in the room plummeted.

After he spoke, she turned back to look at him. Her eyes wide and hard, her brows drawn down. 

She held up a folder in her clenched fist. “What. The Hell. Is This?” she said through gritted teeth.

He froze like a statue and didn’t say anything.

She stared at him for a minute, her breathing already speeding up with the sharp sting of betrayal. “You’re writing reports on me.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, because of course she didn’t need to ask. She held the proof in her hands.

“Yes,” he finally said without a note of inflection. 

She heaved a few heavy breaths. “I figured that someone was watching.” Her voice was bitter. “But I guess it was naive to think that it was anyone but  _ you _ .” Malice dripped off the last word.

“I--” he started.

“Transcripts!” She flung part of the stack at him, the papers fluttering up into the air. “Of my calls! Listings of my activities! You couldn’t even give me one last shred of privacy! You had to take everything from me!”

His patience, which had been drawn into a finer and finer line over the last four months, finally snapped. “Don’t pretend to be the victim! You’re doing just as much spying as I am.” He stepped towards her, drawing up to his full height and looking down at her. 

“Like hell I am!”

“I know all about your little code,” he said, smugly. “Not exactly difficult, by the way. But I shouldn’t have expected anything more complex from your species.”

“According to your notes here, you still haven’t cracked it.” She held up the remaining stack in her hand and sounded every bit as smug as he did. “Seems to be working  _ just fine _ .”

“You have no right to be going through my things--”

“You have no right to have a tracker on my fucking omnitool!!” Shepard threw down the last of the stack, which landed with a loud thud, and turned away, running her hands harshly through her hair. “I should have known! I saw what turians were capable of on Mars with my own eyes. Cruel, wanton--”

“You’re bringing up Mars  _ now _ ??” Garrus snarled, incredulously.

“Yes!” she shot back, spinning back to face him. “That was  _ my _ colony, those were  _ my _ people! Fifty-four thousand men and women, dead in  _ two _ days.”

“There were orders--”

“Because of course a turian can’t do anything except follow orders! The Hierarchy says march and you say how far. They say, wipe out an entire human colony; you say, do we bury or burn the bodies?!”

“It was war,” he justified in a dark tone.

“They were  _ CIVILIANS. _ That’s not war, that’s slaughter!” she bellowed, her face turning red with the effort. “There were  _ children-- _ ”

“The children were spared!” he said with derision. He wasn’t about let her insinuate anything more than she already was. Her hands were just as bloody as his. “Which is more than I can say for anyone aboard the  _ Dauntless _ .”

“That was a military vessel--” she started.

“Carrying wounded back from the front!” he snapped. “You want to talk about losing people? Half of  _ my _ squad was on that ship. Now they’re every bit as dead as those colonists.”

“The  _ Dauntless _ fired first!”

“So did Humanity!!”

Shepard blinked, obviously taken aback. “We did not--”

“You absolutely did, I saw the vids,” Garrus growled bitterly. “The turians gave no sign of aggression till the humans opened fire.”

“And then you so kindly wiped them out,” she finished for him. “I know what happened to the 105. I saw the black box too.”

“But they didn’t tell you how it started, did they? You can’t believe everything your precious Alliance tells you,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss the whole idea.

She glared. “Oh, yes. Because the Hierarchy is infallible!”

“It’s a damn sight better than Earth’s poor excuse for a military.”

“We were still plenty good to keep up with the likes of you. We held the line for over a year!”

He scoffed. “You sacrificed four and a half million people to  _ lose _ , to surrender as soon as we broke your ‘line’.”

“We surrendered because you would have torn through Earth just like you did through Mars. We still place value on the lives of our citizens.”

“Value, right. You still believe that after they shipped you out here and handed you off like some sort of bargaining chip?”

She gritted her teeth and turned away. But she wasn’t getting away that easily.

“You can’t hide behind a pretense of the moral high ground!”

She whirled back around to face him, her eyes flashing. “ _ I’m _ hiding behind pretense?! This whole thing,” She waved her hands between the two of them. “Is a pretense! The Hierarchy doesn’t think we’re models for peace! This is  _ all _ just a ploy designed to humiliate the Alliance!! To humiliate ME. And I’d rather just be a prisoner than whatever this bullshit is!”

She yanked off her wedding ring and threw it at his face with as much force as she could muster. He easily caught it before it hit him, causing her anger to double.

“That can be arranged,” he said, coldly. 

Garrus spun abruptly and stomped downstairs, the front door shutting behind him. Shepard turned back around and slammed a hand against the window with a frustrated cry.


	11. M'aidez

The call timed out again. Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and hit the button to redial. She’d been calling for the last four hours. It was difficult to calculate the time in Vancouver with Palaven’s twenty-eight hour days. But Anderson had to be in his office at some point. He couldn’t ignore her forever.

The screen continued to chime and Shepard put her head in her arms. Her head was aching and her throat still felt raw. The papers were scattered all over the office from where she’d thrown them during the fight. Looking at them made her blood start to boil again. She gritted her teeth and averted her eyes.

The screen stopped chiming and she sighed. Time to redial. But then a voice came over the tinny speakers.

“Shepard.”

She sat up quickly. “Anderson. Finally.” 

“You’re not supposed to call till next week,” he warned. But she didn’t let him continue.

“Extract me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Get me the  _ hell _ out of here.”

“Shepard, we--”

“They know, alright? They know about the code, it’s only a matter of time before it’s broken. My cover’s blown, whatever you want to say.” Her throat felt like it was getting thicker with every word she said. “Just get me out of here.”

Anderson looked at her for a moment, pity written all over his face. “Shepard… I can’t.”

Cold fear pooled in her gut as those two words sunk in. “What?”

He shook his head. “We have no leverage to even  _ make _ that request and the Hierarchy would have no reason to honor it.”

She took a shaky breath and gripped the screen with her hand. “You don’t understand. They’re watching me, th-they get reports--these calls are recorded.”

“These calls are recorded?”

She nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I have to go.”

She felt her one remaining tether to her life on Earth grow taut and feel like it might snap. Something inside her broke. “Wait, please.  _ No _ .” An ugly sob ripped from her chest. “Don’t leave me here. Y-you can’t!” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she wept like a child, unable to hold it all back anymore. “I want to go home! Please, just let me go home.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard. There’s… there’s nothing I can do.”

She covered her face with her hands as four months of continual terror and bone-aching loneliness poured out of her.

“You shouldn’t call again,” he continued. “Since we know they’re listening now.”

“Anderson.  _ Please _ .”

His face was like a mask. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Good-bye, Shepard.”

The screen went dark. And she was alone again.

 

Garrus let his anger carry him swiftly across the base. He didn’t stop for Nihlus, or for the transport trucks. He certainly didn’t let the recruit acting as an assistant stop him. He pushed his way directly into General Victus’ office, only stopping short when he realized that the General wasn’t alone.

“Primarch Fedorian, sir,” he said, automatically straightening up and saluting. The Primarch turned from the windows to look back at him cooly.

“I’m sure whatever this is can wait,” Fedorian said, glancing to Victus. He stood up to summon his assistant back in.

“I apologize for the intrusion, sirs, but it really can’t,” Garrus said, pulling his arm from the recruit’s grasp and stepping forward. “There’s a problem with Shepard.”

The General and the Primarch both looked sufficiently alarmed. Victus dismissed the recruit and the three of them waited for the doors to shut again.

“What is it, Major?” Fedorian asked.

“She knows,” Garrus said, looking between the two of them. “She knows we’ve been… monitoring her. She found my reports and the transcripts. And since she’s learned to read, she knew what they contained.” His subvocals rolled with frustration and residual anger.

“I take it, it didn’t go well,” Fedorian replied, dryly.

“She was… not happy.” That was the understatement of the century.

“We’ll know if she tells the Alliance about this,” Victus assured in a low tone to the Primarch. Fedorian nodded thoughtfully. 

“She’s requested to be removed from ...our situation. And I have to agree with her, sir,” Garrus pressed forward. “Whatever we were trying to do isn’t going to work anymore now that she knows we’re listening.”

“Very well,” Fedorian said, almost sounding bored. “You may cease the daily reports. General, I’m sure Executor Aberion can find a use for Vakarian.”

Victus nodded. “Dismissed, Major.”

Garrus looked between the two of them, his anger starting to simmer again. “Wait! What am I supposed to do with Shepard?”

The Primarch gave him a withering look. “She’s your mate, she’s your responsibility. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

“Dismissed, Major,” Victus repeated, the order more clear and impossible to ignore.

Garrus clenched his jaw, saluted, and left the office. He stood in the hallway, just shaking for a moment. He looked back at the closed doors of the office, feeling like a horrible trick had been played at his expense.

He could go back in there and claim that she wasn’t his mate, since she wasn’t. Not really. But that would mean owning up to a deliberate lie and there was no forgiveness for that. He’d thought at the time that if he went along with Shepard’s little plan, he’d be able to think of a way out all of this. It was just something to buy time. But now he was stuck.

How could the Hierarchy do this to him? He knew that things were tricky with the discovery of the prothean ruins on Mars. If the Hierarchy wasn’t careful, they could easily have the Council breathing down their necks. But Garrus still never expected to be left holding the bag, as he’d heard Shepard say. Now he was trapped in this hellish arrangement with  _ her _ .

He growled and tore down the hallway. Anger boiled over and blinded him to almost everything around him. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he even stopped his relentless pace, but he couldn’t hold back the snarl as he turned around.

Nihlus pulled his hand away and stepped back. His subvocals gave out a shocked rumble.

“What?” Garrus growled, not bothering to hide his foul mood.

“The Primarch sent me with a message. He wanted me to get it to you before you left the base.”

“What’s the message?”

“He said, Shepard’s your responsibility. But you are not authorized to use lethal force against her.”

That pulled Garrus up short. His continual growl stopping suddenly. The thought of doing such a thing had never even crossed his mind. But obviously the Hierarchy thought it had.

“So I guess, do what you have to do,” Nihlus continued, trying to lighten Garrus’ mood. “But don’t kill her.” He smiled and batted at Garrus’ arm.

Garrus’ anger disappeared all of a sudden, turning into shock and indignation. Did the Hierarchy really think he was entertaining such thoughts? The idea alone turned his stomach.

He gave Nihlus a nod and drifted away. The thought turned over and over in his mind, growing more and more gruesome with each pass. But at the same time it bewildered him. How was he already so out of step with what the Hierarchy expected?

He didn’t head back to the house till late in the night, the sun long since set. It was dark as he came inside. He couldn’t hear Shepard anywhere nearby, so, cautiously, he ascended the stairs. Upstairs was empty too. Strangely, though, the files had been picked up. It was then that he noticed a strange light coming from the back garden. He walked to the windows to see what it was. 

Shepard was down in the garden and she’d lit a fire in a metal trash can. She was in the process of burning a large stack of papers. He could hazard a guess which papers they were. She stared resolutely down at the flames, not a hint of emotion on her face. The flickering light made it seem like her skin was the same color as her hair. 

Garrus was reminded of the first time he ever saw her. It was on one of the garden worlds Earth had colonized, Eden Prime they called it. He’d watched her through his scope as she tore across the battlefield with deadly grace, carving a flaming streak of destruction through their ranks. It was Mars that made her a legend, but it was that battle that gave her her codename. And even now, discharged, stranded, surrounded, she still deserved it.


	12. Square One

Shepard blinked.

The snow was wet and heavy, soaked her mittens the moment she touched it. It wasn’t a very long walk to the bus station from her new house. But she could already feel her cheeks and thighs turning pink and cold to the touch. She took her place at the end of the line, peering around a fifth grader to hopefully see the school bus coming up the street. She wiggled her toes in her boots to keep them warm.

Shepard blinked.

The airport was crowded and loud, people crushed in on all sides in a mad rush to their destinations. A man with an Air Force hat nodded to her, recognizing her uniform. He let her pass by to pick up her rucksack off the conveyor belt. She ducked and wove through the crowd, heading for the doors. They slid open and it felt like she stepped into a furnace. She broke out into a sweat, which almost immediately evaporated.

Shepard blinked.

The ward was still and an almost too-perfect temperature, the air tasted like antiseptic and dried her mouth. She lifted her head up to turn it to the other side, wincing a little with the pain that shot down her back. Dammit, she was stronger than this. If the doctors would just listen that all she really needed was some more pain killers, she could be back on the field this afternoon. She didn’t need to lie on her stomach in a ward with all the other casualties, she was just taking a bed from someone who needed it more.

“Hey Skipper,” a familiar voice said behind her head.

Shepard turned back around, wincing again, and smiled up at her visitor. “Ash, you made it.” She heaved a sigh of relief. “When I heard Mars was taken, I was--”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” There were dark circles under Ashley’s eyes, but her bun was still immaculate. “But we’re okay. Well… Jenkins didn’t make it,” she said, softly. “He got too enthusiastic and didn’t retreat when Alenko gave the order. Took a shot to the head, was gone before he reached the ground.”

She frowned and closed her eyes. “God rest him,” she murmured. 

Ashley grimaced. “Damn skull-faces,” she said through gritted teeth.

“And everyone else?”

“Some scrapes and bruises. A couple of grazes, but nothing that would keep us bed-ridden like you.”

“Good.”

She looked at Shepard carefully. “How are you holding up?”

“Dr. Chakwas  _ says _ I’m gonna be stuck here for another few weeks, but I don’t think it’s so bad.”

Ashley waited for Shepard’s nod before lifting her blanket to look at the wounds on her back. “It’s… pretty bad, Skipper. You might want to listen to the doctor.”

Shepard grunted. “Oh, sure. Take her side.” 

Ashley smiled a little. “Listen, they’re gonna kick me out of here in a few, but we got you something.” She pulled a candy bar out of her pocket and placed it on the bed near Shepard’s head. “From the whole squad. It’s kinda hard to get flowers off-planet, but Joker said that Caramilks are the next best thing. And Traynor even drew begonia’s on the wrapper. She said you liked those.”

Shepard smiled at the decorated bar and looked back up at Ashley. “Thank you. Take good care of them, Ash. Tell them I’ll be out of here in no time.”

“We’ll hold you to that, Commander.”

Shepard blinked.

Reality came into focus for the first time in hours. The setting sun streamed through the back windows of the living room. She adjusted where she laid on the couch, tucking her head into her folded arms and squeezing her eyes shut again. She tried to find another memory to settle into; something, anything that made her forget where she was.

 

Shepard was in exactly the same spot as when Garrus had left for work ten hours ago. In fact, he was pretty sure she was still in the same position, like she hadn’t shifted a single muscle. Tactics-wise, it made sense. If he was reporting her movements, give him absolutely nothing to report. Of course she didn’t know that he wasn’t reporting on her anymore. And the Silence that had moved back in since the fight kept him from telling her.

He tried to set it aside. If Shepard wanted to curl up and die, that was her prerogative. He kept his normal routine, while giving the living room a wide berth and ignoring the problem. But on the third day of coming back to her not having moved an inch from her spot on the couch, he had to finally admit that this plan wasn’t going to work. 

For some reason, it  _ bothered _ him. The silence was bad enough; it was almost palpable. But this was worse. She’d stare at the wall without blinking for hours on end. It was like she was ...broken. Like whatever made Shepard Shepard wasn’t present anymore. It wormed its way under his plates and wouldn’t leave him alone, much to his annoyance. He wasn’t even sure if she was eating. How long could humans go without food? Was there something else wrong with her besides the obvious? 

Unable to ignore it any longer, he made a meal that she’d seemed to like. She’d certainly fixed it for herself enough, back when she used to do things. He put it and a glass of water on the table by the couch and left her alone. Hours later, he checked on her again. The food and water were untouched. Well, great. He huffed a breath and went to bed.

The next day while Garrus was at work he looked up everything the Hierarchy had on human biology. It wasn’t a lot, or rather what they had wasn’t useful. He wanted to know how to keep her alive, not the other way around. But when he returned home, he was determined. By the Spirits, she would not starve herself. Not on his watch. He remade the meal and set it in front of her. He sat on the chair next to the couch. She didn’t move for several minutes.

“Shepard, you need to eat something,” he said, adamantly.

She didn’t reply. Just stared at the wall, occasionally blinking.

He sighed. So they were going to do this the hard way. He stood up in front of her, blocking her view. She didn’t react. He grabbed her wrist to pull her up to sitting and that finally broke her spell.

“Don’t. Touch me,” she barked, wrenching her hand away. Her voice was hoarse sounding.

“You need to eat,” he repeated, trying to catch her hands again.

“Go away.” She turned away from him and tucked her hands under her arms. She muttered something about poison into the cushions.

“If I wanted you dead, there are far more efficient ways than poisoning food you refuse to eat,” he snapped, his temper catching him off guard. He took a steadying breath. That was ...counterproductive. Calmer, he tried again. “If you don’t eat, I’m going to have to take you to hospital. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up much longer.”

“Like you’d care,” she said, bitterly. She curled in further on herself.

He frowned, but pressed forward. “Take as much time as you want, but that food has to be gone by morning. Or we’re going to the hospital. Your choice.”

And he left her alone, muttering under his breath about stubborn humans.

But the next morning, the plate was clean. He double checked the trash to be sure she hadn’t tried something sneaky, but it appeared that she’d eaten. When he returned from work, she’d changed postures at least. Now she was sitting and staring off into nothing. She’d even changed clothes. It seemed a moderate improvement. 

He fixed the same meal again and sat on the same couch as her. She glowered at the plate and tried to retreat further against the arm of the couch. 

“Look, it would probably do us both good to get some space,” he said, trying to keep his continually simmering frustration under a lid. “We can go to that shopping district. You know your way around enough that I wouldn’t have to stay with you.”

Her gaze moved to him. She looked at him for a moment, wary and highly suspicious. “Fine.”


	13. Clear Blue Sky

It was an unusually cloudy day on Palaven. Shepard shoved her hands in her pockets and walked down the street. She cut a straight line through the crowds, not bothering to bob and weave. It seemed her body language translated just fine cross-species, most everyone stepping out of her way.

Admittedly, getting out of the house was a good idea. As much as she was loathed to admit that Garrus was right about anything. Ever. The change of scenery had helped clear away some of the fog she’d willfully built up over the past week. And with the metaphorical skies clearing, she was confronted again with the question that had haunted the back of her mind.

Now what?

She wasn’t a soldier anymore. She wasn’t a spy anymore, not that she’d been a very good one to start with. She’d agreed to this set up somehow assuming that once she completed her mission, she’d be done. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on that hope that this was only temporary, that one day she’d go back to Earth, meet her squad at the bar, and they’d laugh about her crazy adventure behind enemy lines. Losing that hope had  _ hurt _ . It still hurt.

She swallowed hard and pushed past it as she rounded a corner. There was nothing for it now. She’d never go home again. This was her life now, barren and quiet surrounded by people who didn’t and would never understand her. She stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the frustrated noises from the people behind her. She focused on her breathing for a minute, suddenly feeling like a very heavy weight was pressing against her chest.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and was surprised to see the shopkeeper she’d met on her first trip. 

“Jane?” Keslia asked, concern on her pretty blue face. “Are you alright?”

Shepard had come back a few more times since the first visit. Keslia was very easy to talk to. Though right now, Shepard didn’t really know how to answer.

“Why don’t you come inside for a second? Catch your breath?” 

Shepard nodded and let her lead her into the store. It was quiet and still smelled wonderful. She got the impression that Keslia was very happy for her business, or maybe she always knew her customers by name. Probably not too many asari on Palaven, and only one miserable human.

Keslia pulled up a low stool behind the counter and led Shepard to sit in it.

“Are you levo or dextro, sweets?” she asked.

“Levo.”

She disappeared into the back room for a few minutes. Shepard took a few more deep breaths and leaned her head against the counter behind her. Keslia returned with a stoneware cup filled with a spicy smelling drink.

“Careful, it’s warm,” she said as the door opened and a few other customers walked in. Keslia wound up helping them for a while. Shepard was grateful though. It gave her a chance to calm down and sip her drink. It was like tea, though the instant she drank it a wonderful warmth seeped through her chest. Shepard had time to finish the cup before Keslia finished with her customers and they were alone again.

“Better?” she asked, taking the mug back.

Shepard nodded. “What’s that called?”

“It’s my own recipe. Adapted from a drink a ...special someone once showed me.” She looked wistful momentarily, before returning to focus on Shepard again. “I get those too.” She nodded back out towards the sidewalk where she’d found Shepard. “Life can be pretty overwhelming sometimes.”

Shepard just nodded.

“Stay here as long as you want. I’ll be doing inventory in the back, if you need anything.” She turned to go.

“Keslia,” she called after her. “Thank you.”

“Us off-worlders have to stick together,” she replied with a grin. And then disappeared back into the stock room.

Shepard stayed there until she had only five minutes before she was supposed to meet Garrus back at the car. She thanked Keslia again and left the store feeling better than when she’d entered.

Her question still remained. Unanswered and hovering, but it wasn’t bearing down on her neck anymore. She supposed that she’d just have to figure it out, one day at a time. Her train of thought was interrupted when she ran headlong into the solid chest of a turian.

“Oh, sorry--” she started.

“I thought we told you to stay away from here.”

 

Garrus sipped his drink and pressed his fist to his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache approach. When they’d arrived at the district, Shepard had hardly waited for the vehicle to stop before she was out the door and down the street. Which suited him just fine. He wouldn’t let her starve, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend time with her. 

There were no two ways around it, this was his life now. Held hostage by a person he could hardly stand, a human at that. It felt like a sick joke played on him by the universe. What had he ever done to deserve this? He’d followed orders, was a dedicated son, a decorated soldier. And this was his reward. 

“...It wasn’t like the Krogan Rebellions, but it’s been too long since we’ve had a proper war. We were getting soft,” a rough voice said with the complete self-assuredness that only came with age.

The chairs at the table behind him squeaked as two people sat down. The cafe Garrus was sitting in wasn’t that busy; they could have sat somewhere else. But even if they had, the man was loud enough that Garrus could hear every single word he and his companion said. Still, after being surrounded by the endless and overwhelmingly human emotions of Shepard, it was comforting. It’d been too long since he’d gotten to listen to turians talk like turians. 

“I’d hardly call it a proper war. We barely deployed full strength and the humans crumbled almost immediately.”

As far as Garrus knew, they hadn’t even fully deployed before the humans surrendered. It was embarrassing. For them.

“It’s not about how many troops we deploy. It’s about showing the enemy who’s in charge, who’s superior.”

Garrus could hear the man’s talon tapping against the metal tabletop as he gesticulated. Garrus took another sip of his drink and nodded a little to himself. This man made a lot of sense.

“Teach them respect.”

“Exactly.” There was a pause as the first man took a drink. “Like this whole business with that human they brought in and bonded to that Major.”

Garrus froze, but it seemed like they didn’t know who he was. He fought the urge to turn around and look at them.

“Disgusting.”

The first man hummed an agreement. “But see, it’s quite brilliant. It’s the exact same strategy as the war.”

Garrus frowned. Strangely, he wasn’t sure what the man meant. How was his arranged marriage anything like the war?

“What do you mean?”

“He teaches her the meaning of respect, just like we taught them.” His lecherous laugh seemed to slither down Garrus’ spine and coil in his gut. “But teaching that lesson will be a little more enjoyable than war. For him anyway.”

Ice flowed suddenly through Garrus’ veins.

The man’s friend laughed. “Doubt that’s a lesson she’ll ever forget.”

“Neither will the humans.”

“Huh, you’re right. Brilliant.”

“Fedorian’s a smart man. But could you imagine mating with one of those things?”

“I heard they bleed easily.”

Garrus stood and left the cafe, careful to keep his face turned away from the still chatting pair lest they recognize him now. He stood just outside and leaned back against the wall. It felt like he’d just been smacked in the face with a whole dreadnaught’s worth of his own stupidity.

Of course that’s what this whole set up was for. Of course that’s what the Hierarchy intended. And of course he hadn’t noticed any of it at all because he was too focused on how inconvenient this was for him. No wonder Shepard was so afraid of him during the wedding. No wonder she shut down. She’d known the score since the beginning. Meanwhile, he was the biggest idiot in the entire galaxy with his head stuck so far up his own ass he couldn’t see the light of day.

His fists curled inward on themselves, talons pressing against the skin. Spirits, how could he have been so dense? His omnitool beeped with a reminder of the time they’d agreed to meet back up. He slowly turned and headed up the street, still marvelling at how he could have missed what was so obvious to apparently the rest of Palaven. He wound up arriving at the car several minutes late.

Shepard was nowhere to be seen.

He’d been worried when she’d gone missing before. But now that Garrus finally understood the stakes, cold fear swept over him. He pulled up his omnitool and activated the tracker in Shepard’s. It pinned several places all over the map. She’d obviously tried to damage it and had done a fairly decent job. He sped down the street towards where several pins where located close together, hoping that that was at least somewhere near her. He opened the code and started to sort through all the garbage data she’d loaded in her side of the program. He stopped when he heard a very familiar voice.

“Let me go!” Shepard yelled.


	14. Louder Than Words

So this was it, huh? Shepard was going to survive years of training, the most brutal tests the Alliance could come up with, and an entire intergalactic war to be taken out by some punk ass turian youths in an alley behind a pet store? Somehow that didn’t seem fair. And there were six of them. That seemed even less fair.

At least she hoped they were just planning on killing her. That terrifying thought renewed her struggle as two of the six dragged her deeper into the alley. They were all taking a lot of joy out of watching her strain against their iron grip on her arms.

“Let Me GO!” she shouted, dragging her heels and futilely hoping that someone would hear her. She kicked at them when one of the others got too close. But he jumped back and avoided her blow. They laughed.

When they reached the end of the alley, her two captors threw her against the back wall. Her skull cracked on the bricks and before she could react a hand was at her throat. Their leader, she assumed, hauled her up by her neck so her toes no longer touched the ground. Survival instinct made her scramble at his grip to find air.

“I know all about you, Flaming Death,” he said quietly through bared teeth. “My sister was on Eden Prime.” His fingers began to squeeze tighter, talons pricking her skin. “She didn’t come home, thanks to you.”

Stars bloomed at the edges of Shepard’s vision. Despite the terror filling her mind, she gasped for enough breath to manage a single word. “Good.”

That seemed to enrage him, she could feel his subvocals rumbling up through his arm. If she got him angry enough, this could be quick. His grip squeezed even tighter and she felt her eyes begin to roll back in her head.

“HEY!”

A large rock broke against the wall not two feet from her head. It startled the leader enough that she was able to pull his fingers out of her neck and she dropped to the ground. Tears filled her eyes as she sucked in oxygen, her throat feeling like it was coated with gravel.

“Take care of him!” the leader ordered, grabbing Shepard again by the hair. 

Finally, training cut through survival. She grabbed his grip and shot up to her feet, spinning around and landing a kick to the soft side of his chest. As she knocked the wind out of him, his grip loosened and she shoved him away. She gasped for a few lungfuls. He launched himself back at her, obviously a rookie. She easily dodged his blow and grabbed the back of his head, slamming his face down against her knee.

One of his cronies tried to grab her and she rolled away, putting distance between her and the wall. She staggered back up, keeping an eye on a third who was approaching on her left. Her blood was rushing in her ears, her lungs burning. Something solid hit her back and she glanced up to see Garrus, facing his own trio. He must have been the one who threw the rock earlier. Thank god for a sniper’s aim… and that she hadn’t been completely successful in disabling her tracker.

The leader picked himself up off the ground, blue blood staining his face plates and shirt.

“I suggest you run,” Garrus growled to the leader from behind her. She’d never heard that tone of voice from him before.

“You’re outnumbered,” the leader laughed with far too much confidence for someone with a broken nose plate.

Shepard thought about quipping back, but her throat felt like it was on fire. So she focused on forcing air through her damaged windpipe and keeping an eye on the henchmen.

“Last chance to walk away,” Garrus said in that same timbre. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She knew intellectually that he was dangerous. She’d heard the stories, she knew what Archangel was capable of. But this was the first time that he truly felt like the legend.

“Get them,” the leader said, smugly. Almost instinctively, Shepard and Garrus spun around each other and fielded each other’s trio, putting each side off balance.

Shepard ducked under the punch of the first thug and caught his arm when he swung it back to try and hit her. She spun behind him, landing a blow to the unplated spot on back of his head with her fist. Using her grip on his arm, she pulled him over her and flipped him to the ground. She overestimated how heavy he’d be without armor and he slammed into the ground harder than she’d intended.

The second one reached out to grab her arm, but she gripped his fingers and spun towards him. Trapping his elbow under her arm, she pulled back on his fingers till she felt the familiar snap. He let out a terrible squawk and she let him go. He stumbled back, cradling his hand.

She saw the third coming just a second too late. 

“Shepard!” Garrus yelled. His hand wrapped around her upper arm and pulled her away from the worst of the swing. She heard a ripping sound as the third’s claws caught the back of her shirt. She ducked under Garrus’ arm and they traded sides again.

A new thug swung a leg out to kick her, but she was ready for him. She caught it and then ducked inbetween his legs. She grabbed his other ankle and pulled his feet out from underneath him, his keel knocking sharply against the ground. She landed a solid blow to his waist.

“Duck!” Garrus cried. She lowered her head and felt an arm sail over it. Bracing a hand on her shoulder, Garrus vaulted over her, snarling ferociously. He grabbed the leader by the neck and shoved him back against the wall.

The last thug still standing tried to bumrush Garrus, but Shepard reached out a leg and swept the thug’s feet out from under him. He fell flat onto his stomach. She grabbed his arm and twisted it to right before the moment it would pop out of its socket. Garrus looked back and nodded at her before turning back to face the trapped leader.

“Barefaced traitor,” the leader sputtered. “Do you even know what she’s done? How many of us she’s killed?”

“I know.” Garrus shoved him by the neck into the alley. “Now get out of our sight,” he growled.

Shepard released her captive. The six of them picked themselves off the ground and scurried back down the alley, leaving the two of them alone. 

The sounds of traffic and life beyond the alley began to filter back in. Shepard focused on catching her breath, her heart rate still racing with adrenaline. She dared a glance at Garrus. He was still staring after the thugs with a murderous expression. She knew that without him she’d probably be dead right now. 

When he looked to her, she managed, “Thanks.”

He stared back at her, a strange expression on his face.

She straightened up. “But this doesn’t change anything,” she croaked. And she started walking down the alley.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

She stopped and hazarded a touch at her neck. Damn, it was sore and already bruised. When she pulled her fingers away, there was blood. She wouldn’t bleed out, but she should bandage it.

“No, ah…” He nodded, looking lower on her person. She looked down but there wasn’t anything on her stomach. She felt around her middle and her muscles tensed when she found the long gouge across her back.

“Shit,” she hissed.

 

As soon as they were back at the house, Shepard was tearing up the stairs. Garrus followed behind her at a safe distance. He reached the top of the stairs right as the bathroom door slammed shut so he stood on the other side, listening. She hissed through her teeth and swore again, like she’d been swearing most of the drive back to the house.

“We’re going to need to go to the hospital,” she said from the other side of the door. Her voice still sounded rough and gravelly.

“It didn’t look that bad in the alley,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, I’m looking at it right now and I can tell you it’s going to need stitches.”

“Will you let me look at it?”

There was a pause. Then he heard her sigh. “Fine.”

The door opened and Shepard returned to her spot in front of the sink. She pulled up the back of her shirt half-way and craned her head to look over her shoulder. A long gash ran across her back and disappeared up under her shirt, strangely red blood wept out of the wound.

“Yeah, see? It’s probably going to need like twenty-thirty stitches. Spiky bastard.” She grimaced and turned so the wound was facing him now.

He leaned down to look closer at the injury. It was long but relatively shallow, still far deeper than it would be if she had plates. But nothing that required a hospital visit.

“We can take care of this here,” he said, turning and opening the lower cabinet.

“With what?” she said, giving him an odd look.

“With medigel?” He pulled out the kit and held it up.

“What?”

“Medigel,” he repeated, standing back up.

She gave him a blank look. “What is that?”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Medigel. It’s… medigel.”

She huffed. “You repeating it isn’t clarifying anything.”

He opened the kit and pulled out a packet, holding it out to her. “Here.”

She took it and studied it carefully. “This looks like a ketchup packet.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

She handed it back to him and shook her head. “I’ve never seen this stuff before in my life.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Wait, you don’t have--?” He blinked a few times as a few more realizations clicked into place. “You… Humanity fought an entire intergalactic war without medigel?”

She shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

“How??”

“We used bandages, and iodine, an-and stitches. What else were we supposed to use?”

“Medigel,” he said, adamantly.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “What even is it?”

“It’s… nanobots suspended in a serum. You put it on a wound and it heals it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That sounds fake. Can’t I just get some stitches?”

“What are stitches?”

She looked exasperated. “Stitches, you know. When you sew the wound back together so it can heal.”

“Sew? Like with needle and thread?”

“Basically.”

Over the months with Shepard, he’d heard her say a lot of strange and frankly horrifying things. But sewing a wound like it was a spirits-damned pair of trousers had to be the strangest and most horrifying.

“We can just use medigel. It’ll be fine,” he said, stepping towards her and opening the packet.

She stepped back and held up a finger. “That stuff hasn’t been tested for humans. Who knows what it could do to me.”

“It works for every other race in the galaxy,” he reasoned. “Humans aren’t that different from the rest of us.”

“I don’t trust it.”

Garrus let out a frustrated grumble. “Well, I can tell you that no one on Palaven will know how to do whatever the hell stitches are.”

She frowned and glared at him. He glared right back. She looked down at the opened packet and then returned to his gaze, studying him carefully.

“You’re sure it’s safe?” Her voice was quieter.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

She sighed. “Fine.” She held her hand out for the packet, but he held it back.

“It takes a little finesse. You can just slap it on, but it’s more effective if applied well.”

Shepard’s glare returned and she took two long breaths. Wordlessly, she turned to face the sink and rested her elbows on the counter top. She pulled up the bottom of her shirt half-way again.

He examined the wound again. It’d heal faster if he cleaned it first. So he set the packet aside and picked up a few gauze pads to soak them in disinfectant. When he approached her again, she side-stepped away from him.

“Just… tell me what you’re doing back there, okay?” She was doing a pretty good job of remaining calm, but he could hear the fear in her voice. Briefly, he was reminded of their wedding. She’d been afraid of him then too.

“Okay.” He nodded, meeting her gaze in her reflection. “I’m going to clean it before applying the gel.”

He returned focus to the wound, gently wiping away the blood and sweat from the area. She tensed again when he made contact, but didn’t say anything. He stopped when he reached the hem of her shirt.

“Ah… you’ll need to pull this up more. It extends...”

She frowned, but reached up and pulled the shirt over her head. She still kept it on her arms. She had some sort of strange harness around her middle, but his gaze was immediately drawn to the top of her back.

“Whoa,” he breathed. Six long jagged scars ran down her upper back, cutting unmistakable pale lines through the freckled expanse of her skin. Without even realizing what he was doing, he reached out a hand as if to match where the talons of another turian had carved.

“Don’t,” she said, sharply but quietly. That shocked him out of it and he curled his fingers back. What in the spirits made him think  _ that _ was okay?

“Sorry,” he apologized, trying to focus on the task at hand. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Without medigel… a wound like this would have been fatal.”

“It nearly was.” She was staring a hole into the countertop.

Morbidly, he had to ask. “When did you…”

“Mars,” she said, simply.

There had been a claim that Flaming Death had been taken down at the end of the first wave on Mars. But when she showed up in battle a few weeks later, Garrus assumed it had just been a rumor. Apparently, it was very nearly the truth.

“How?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments. “They evac’d me almost immediately. I was under the knife less than an hour after it happened.” She stopped and it seemed like a whole history passed through her eyes. “And then Mars fell.”

No wonder she felt Mars so deeply. She’d single-handedly rallied the troops and the colonists to repel the first turian wave, the only time in the entire war they retreated. And then when she was gone, it was claimed and the colony wiped out. The voice of the man from the cafe seemed to ring in his head.  _ Show them the meaning of respect. _ It made his stomach turn all over again. 

Garrus’ gaze finally dropped. Unable to put words to anything he was thinking, he went back to cleaning the laceration. It took him only a few minutes. He set aside the pad and picked up the medigel, squeezing it out onto his fingers. As delicately as he could, as if he could make up for past sins with a gentle hand now, he applied it to her wound. 

He’d never been this close to her before. The same small flecks of darker coloring as on her face where scattered across her back. He could see her muscles shifting under her skin when she adjusted her stance, the way her chest expanded with every breath. He could see the small bumps of each vertebrae down the middle of her back. For something as strangely delicate as she was, it was a testament to her that she’d managed to survive so much.

Leaning back up, he noticed the bruising on her neck. “Here, stand up.” 

She did, holding her shirt to her front. He stepped closer to her and reached for her neck. She jumped when he touched her, her eyes closing. He dabbed the remaining gel on the gouges and then smoothed it across the bruise. Her pulse was racing under his finger tips.

“Shepard,” he said, quietly. Her eyes opened to meet his. She looked a little surprised at how close he was to her, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry for monitoring and reporting on you. I… I didn’t realize... I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s not happening anymore. And it won’t happen again.”

Several expressions rippled across her face; confusion, suspicion, disbelief; so small he would have missed them if he was further away. She didn’t reply, just nodded once and looked away. He retracted his hand from her neck and stepped back.

They were silent for another minute, before she spoke.

“How long till the gel works?”

“Should be about finished now.”

She frowned at him, then turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide. The wound was now a stripe of new skin, more pink in color than the rest of her back. She reached around and ran a hand across the mark.

She turned around and leaned towards the mirror, examining her neck. The punctures were pink as well and the bruise had lightened to a yellow shadow.

“It’ll continue to heal overnight, but it shouldn’t leave a scar,” he said, quietly.

Shepard stared at her neck, mild horror on her face. She dropped her head and she frowned at the floor for a moment before speaking. “You had this the whole war?” she asked, looking over at him.

Garrus had to nod and she looked away. 

She pulled her torn shirt back over her head. “Earth never stood a chance,” she said, sounding thoroughly defeated. And she went downstairs.


	15. Insult to Injury

Morning was always a quiet time in the house. This morning especially so. The only sound was the spoon against the glass as Shepard stirred her coffee. She watched the dark swirling liquid for a moment and then took a sip.

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of her reflection in the kitchen windows and paused. She walked closer and pressed her fingers against her neck where a bruise should rightfully be. She should be bandaged and feeling terrible for the next week or so. Her throat felt a little sore. But by every appearance it looked like nothing at all had transpired yesterday evening. It was disturbing.

In the reflection, she saw Garrus appear in the doorway to the dining room behind her. She dropped her hand and looked back at him. 

He averted his gaze. “I won’t be back till late tonight,” he said, quietly.

She just nodded and turned back around. He looked at her for a long moment, an inscrutable expression on his face, before leaving.

Speaking of disturbing.

Their relationship was a game of chess. It had been that way since the moment they first laid eyes on each other. Everything that had ever happened between the two of them fit nicely into one of their strategies. The shows of friendship were to garner goodwill, the inquisitive conversations to get information. Even her discovery and their fight fit into the master plan. But the one thing that hadn’t made sense, the one thing that didn’t fit in the entire time she’d known him was his apology last night.

What was his game? She’d spent the better part of the night puzzling it over without coming to any sort of logical conclusion. Was it a ploy to gain her trust? Was it some sort of private joke, another way to attempt to humiliate her? She could almost settle on the last option as the reason, if not for how  _ earnest _ he sounded. If not for how his fingers trembled against her skin. He seemed genuine, he seemed remorseful. So much so that she hadn’t even known how to respond. She still didn’t.

It made her uneasy. She hated feeling blind. She always worked so hard to understand the why of things, even more so than the how. She was smart, quick on her feet, perceptive. It usually wasn’t much of a struggle at all to sort out the answer. People were typically very easy to read. And at one point, she’d had him totally figured out. So how was it that in almost thirty years in this galaxy the one thing to truly baffle her was Garrus Vakarian?

And when had that changed?

 

Garrus walked calmly up the long hallway to the Primarch’s office. The assistant saw him coming from a long way off and fixed him with a stern look. Garrus pretended not to notice and headed straight for the doors. However, the assistant knew his gamble and quickly stood, blocking his path.

“I know I’m jumping rank, but I just need to speak to the Primarch,” Garrus said, trying to step around. The assistant stepped again.

“You don’t have permission,” he replied, rumbling with disdain.

“This is important and will only take a few minutes.”

“You’re not on special assignment anymore, Major.” Somehow he managed to fit a touch of mockery in that last word. “If you want to see the Primarch, you’ll need to make an appointment.”

Choking back what he really wanted to say, Garrus said, through gritted teeth, “I’d like to make an appointment then.”

“I’m afraid the Primarch’s not accepting any new appointments right now--”

Garrus growled and stepped towards the assistant, who cowered back a step. But before anything else could happen, the door to the office opened and out walked several Executors, followed by Primarch Fedorian. Garrus and the assistant both jumped to attention.

“Ah, Major, are you my next? Come in,” Fedorian said, turning back into his office. Garrus didn’t give the assistant the satisfaction of looking back at him before he followed the Primarch inside.

Fedorian took a seat behind his desk and looked Garrus over for a second. “So what brings you here to accost my assistant?”

“I needed to speak with you about something urgent and he was being petty.”

“I see. And what was so urgent?”

“Sir, the humans don’t have medigel.” Garrus let the words hang in the air as they’d been hovering in his mind since his discovery last night.

Fedorian looked at him for a moment. “And this is urgent in your mind?”

“Yes,” Garrus insisted. “We already knew they didn’t have mass effect weapons. But without medigel too, technically humanity should be classified as a Non-Advanced Species, no matter their FTL capabilities. War with them isn’t…” He drifted off when he noticed the Primarch’s calm expression. Garrus suddenly realized, this was not news to him.

“At ease, Major.” Fedorian stood up from his desk and turned around. He poured something into two glasses and placed the one on the side of the desk nearest to Garrus. “Have a seat.”

Fedorian relaxed back into his chair and took a sip from his brandy. Garrus sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, his back ramrod straight. 

Fedorian took another leisurely pull. “Go ahead and finish your sentence.” He nodded to the other glass, which Garrus reluctantly picked up.

Garrus looked down at his brandy. “Well, sir… Due to their lack of technological advances, war with humanity wasn’t legal under Council law. If we didn’t know at the time, a case could be made for ignorance…” His gaze moved to meet Fedorian’s. “But apparently we did know.”

“Not at first,” Fedorian said, far too calmly. “We had no clue what we were facing at the three-one-four relay. But after some recon and interrogation, it became clear that our enemy was ...less than intimidating.”

Garrus frowned. “But if we knew…”

“You know as well as I do that they attacked us first. Not to mention, they were breaking Council law themselves by activating relays.” 

“It hardly seems fair.”

“It’s war, Major. It’s never fair. I’d thought that what happened with the  _ Dauntless _ would have taught you that. Besides, humanity’s too cocky for their own good.”

“We had to teach them respect,” Garrus echoed, coldly.

“Exactly.” He thought for a moment and a mandible twitched in a half-smile. “A lesson that has finally sunk in. Did you read the transcript from Shepard’s latest call with her Captain?”

Garrus shook his head. “I requested they not be sent to me anymore.”

Fedorian regarded him for a moment. “Your choice, I suppose. Anyway, they cut her off.”

Garrus’ head snapped back up. “What?”

“She told them we were recording their conversations and he told her not to call anymore.” Fedorian sat up and typed on his computer for a moment. A projection appeared above the desk between them, Shepard and a human man’s face each taking up half the screen. “Here, see for yourself.”

“No, wait--” Garrus started. But to his horror, the vid started playing. 

“You don’t understand,” Shepard said, fervently. Suddenly leaning closer to her screen, her eyes wild and desperate. “They’re watching me, th-they get reports--these calls are recorded.”

Captain Anderson’s eyes went wide. “These calls are recorded?”

Shepard nodded. “Yeah.”

“I have to go.”

All of the color drained out of her face. “Wait, please!  _ No _ .” Suddenly, it contorted and the most heart wrenching noise Garrus had ever heard tore out of her. “Don’t leave me here. Y-you can’t!” Tears began to run down her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. “I want to go home. Please, just let me go home.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. You shouldn’t call again since we know they’re listening now.”

“Anderson.  _ Ple-- _ ”

Fedorian stopped the vid and pointed to the projection at Captain Anderson. “ _ That _ is the face of a man who respects his enemy.” His subvocals sounded very pleased, even smug.

But Garrus couldn’t look away from Shepard. Something inside of him ached. 

The projection disappeared when Fedorian hit another button. “And that is why the turians are revered across the galaxy.” He looked closely at Garrus. “We do not suffer fools.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrus answered, quietly.

“Understand, Major, that what you have uncovered is of the highest classification. It does not leave this room. Your special assignment has been suspended, but we still expect you to adhere to our rules all the same.” There was a chilling tone of warning in Fedorian’s voice.

“Yes, sir.”

Fedorian nodded. “Anything else, Major?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed then.”

Garrus left the office, leaving behind his brandy. Untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops champagne bottle* The doc I'm posting from broke 100 pages and 50k words today! Woohoo! Happy Friday! <3, K


	16. Golden Rule

Shepard sighed and adjusted her position on the couch. It felt like she’d been trying to go to sleep for hours. Her mind wouldn’t relax, but she had no solutions for her problem. She flipped her pillow to the other side; it wasn’t very cool as she had just flipped it a few moments ago. She switched back over to her stomach. It hadn’t suddenly improved.

Maybe she could just give up. Signal a surrender and go spend her time doing something useful since apparently sleep wasn’t happening right now. Go run a quick mile down on the treadmill. Do a hundred pull ups. Anything to take her mind off of the continual puzzle of Garrus’ sudden about-face.

She rolled back over to her back and legitimately tried to picture some sheep. She’d gone to a farm once on a field trip as a kid. They smelled terrible and one of them had been really mean, kept trying to steal her lunch. Focus, Shepard. One, two, three--is that the car?

She sat up as headlights swept across the living room through the front windows. Great, the mystery man himself, back from the base. She curled up on her side and pretended to be asleep as the front door opened. She heard him walk inside and the door shut, but then nothing.

She waited a minute more, but she didn’t hear him go upstairs. Frowning, she dared to turn her head and sneak a look. He was just standing inside the doorway, but she couldn’t see his face or read his posture. What was he doing?

He turned to look at her. She reflexively jumped as his eyes reflected back at her a blueish-green. The refraction wasn’t as bright as the horror movies always made them seem, but it still made her flinch. Old habits died hard, especially those formed in battle. She turned back and waited for him to leave. But he didn’t.

Instead, he walked into the living room, slowly. What on Earth was he doing? As she felt him grow nearer still, she turned around and sat up a little.

“Garrus?” She blinked up at him.

He froze at the end of the couch. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice sounded strange, hesitant and thick.

She narrowed her eyes to try to read his expression. “What’s… going on?”

“Shepard.” It sounded like his might choke on the word. “I--I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, her hand clasped between his. He was warm and his grip was insistent. She could feel his subvocals thrumming through his hands, strong and pitching up and down rapidly. For not the first time, she wished she could understand what they meant.

“I’m sorry. I’m so… I-I didn’t… How could I not--but I didn’t, I swear! If I had known--” He shook his head and gripped her hand tighter. “You don’t even understand. They shouldn’t--they won’t--I won’t let them.” 

It almost felt like her translator was on the fritz. His words were coming fast and furious, stacking on top of each other and never quite reaching a full thought.

“I never thought that--but they have. They knew! They knew the whole time! It wasn’t legal--wasn’t fair.”

She sat up a little more and Garrus gripped her other arm. His face was suddenly very close to hers, his eyes reflective in the moonlight. She was suddenly reminded how utterly alien he was.

“It’s  _ not right _ , Shepard,” he declared, finally managing to string together a full sentence.

“What’s not?”

“What they’ve done to you.” He looked desperately at her, his subvocals still going strong. “...What I’ve done to you.”

His head fell and he covered his face with a hand. “I can hardly believe… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely.

Shepard still had no clue what was going on. He was obviously in an emotional state, but she had no clue why. What was she supposed to do now? What did he expect her to do?

Before she could decide, his head snapped up. “I’m going to fix this, Shepard. I promise.”

And he stood abruptly, dropping her hand, and marched up the stairs. She could have sworn she heard him saying something about respect. Shepard was left bewildered and even less tired than before. She looked down at her hand and flexed it. What in the blazes had that been about?

 

Garrus had left the house the moment he’d awoken the next morning. He was the first person at the small shop by the base, arriving even before the employee did. The sun had just fully risen as he was returning back, successful in his mission. He could hear Shepard making her morning drink in the kitchen and he walked purposefully into the room.

She looked up, startled at his entrance. Quickly, she glanced him over, looking a little wary. After his performance the night before, he could hardly blame her. He’d been so angry and ashamed that he’d hardly been coherent.

So he wordlessly set his purchase on the counter and pushed it towards her.

She looked at the box with suspicion. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you.”

She gave him a hard look, but set down her mug and slowly pulled the box closer. She pulled off the lid to reveal a case nested in cardboard. She opened the case and her eyes went wide as she looked down at a pistol. It was very nearly the smallest they had in the shop, but he wanted to get her one that she’d be able to wield with ease and accuracy. And the shop assistant said that it still packed a hell of a punch.

She looked at the gun for a long minute, then her gaze shifted to him. Many bewildered questions were in her eyes. “What is this?” she asked, deadly serious in tone.

“It’s a pistol. For you.”

“Yeah, no. I picked up on that. But--” She scoffed and set down the lid, stepping back from the counter. “Why are you arming me?”

“I want you to feel safe. And I know that I wouldn’t feel very safe in enemy territory if I was unarmed.”

Her eyes went wider and she stepped back further. “Okay, Garrus. What the  _ fuck _ is going on? Since when do you care if I feel  _ safe _ ? An-and what the hell was that last night? Why do you keep apologizing?”

Garrus frowned and thought for a moment, trying to find the best and most succinct way to explain his intentions. “I want to make amends,” he said, earnestly.

“Why?” she shot back.

“Because I finally realized how terrible this setup is for you and how much of a part I’ve played in that. And I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Shepard folded her arms and looked at him closely. 

“Like I said before,” he continued. “I know that you have no reason to believe a single word I say, but I… I want to help as much as I can.”

She didn’t respond. It was driving him a little crazy by how still and silent she was.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, recognizing her expression.

“I’m trying to figure out how what you’re trying to do helps the Hierarchy,” she said, bluntly.

“And what have you decided?”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked away, shaking her head. “So… what? You’re saying you feel bad about what we did to each other?”

“Yes.”

She paused and blinked at him, obviously not expecting that answer. “We were both just following orders,” she said, in a quieter tone.

“If you were ordered to do something that you knew was wrong, would you do it?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then dropped her gaze. “No.”

“Exactly.” He sighed. “Except I figured out too late what the orders actually meant and now...” He frowned and dropped his head, hot shame coloring his neck. “I can’t change what’s already happened and I can’t even begin to fix the root of our problems. But I want to do right by you. As much right as I can. If for no other reason than technically we are stuck together for the rest of our lives.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then turned and leaned back against the counter. “I… I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She glanced at him. “Even if what you’re saying is true, it’s not going to just make things fine between us automatically.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think it would.”

“I  _ can’t _ trust you.”

“I know.”

They were both silent for a minute. That was the foundational issue really. They were enemies brought together unwillingly. There may have been a cease fire between their worlds, but the war still continued under their roof. If only interpersonal relations were as simple as intergalactic ones. The thought gave him an idea.

“What if… we made an agreement?” he offered.

One of Shepard’s eyebrows quirked up. “What? Like a treaty?”

“Exactly. An accord that we could both agree to, to make being bonded a liveable arrangement for both of us.”

She thought for a few seconds. “You think that will work?”

“It will as long as we both abide by it.”

She paused. “What are the terms?”

Oh. He hadn’t expected to get this far. “I think…” He scrambled to come up with something. “It’s naive to presume that we won’t be asked again to report on what happens in our house,” he started. She nodded. “So how about when that happens, we have to tell the other what we’re going to report.”

She frowned. 

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think that…” She heaved a sigh. “Really, this boils down to that we have to be honest with each other. One hundred percent. Anything less than that and this won’t work. It won’t be liveable.”

“One hundred percent honesty?” Garrus asked. She certainly wasn’t shying away from the heart of the matter.

“Yes.” She watched him closely.

He nodded. “I can do that.”

She looked surprised, but then nodded as well. “Then I can too.” She stepped back towards him and held out her hand. Odd, he thought, but took her hand. She gripped his firmly and raised it up and down in one solid shake. When she let go, he looked down at his hand. It was strange to see a handshake done so… professionally.

“What?” she asked, noting his expression.

“In the spirit of one hundred percent honesty, I should probably tell you that handshakes are really only done as greetings between close friends.”

“Oh. Then how do turians finalize an agreement?”

“Like this.” He held up his arm diagonally, parallel to his body, and waited for her to do the same. Then he tapped the side of his wrist against hers.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Well, there’s a more formal version, but it’s not used very often.”

“Our treaty isn’t formal?” She tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. Spirits.

“No! That’s not what I--ah, here, let me just--” He went around the counter and stood a few feet away from her. He held up his arm like before and then bowed towards her. She copied his motions and they met in the middle, their arms pressed against each other. 

“Now put your weight on me,” he instructed. She leaned a little further forward and he did the same, resting their weight against the other. Instinctively, she met his gaze. He’d never noticed before, but her eyes were a striking shade of green. After a moment, they leaned away. “Like that.”

She seemed to be thinking. “Why that motion?”

“Well, it shows you’re unarmed for one. But it also exposes potential weak points,” he explained.

“So it’s a sign of trust.”

“Exactly.”

She nodded thoughtfully and picked back up her mug. She paused, but then closed the pistol case and took it with her as well. She stopped before leaving the room, turning to look back at him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome.”


	17. Where Rubber Meets

“You’re sure that the Primarch didn’t say  _ why _ both of us were needed at the base in, and I quote, our most respectable clothes?” Shepard asked, watching the landscape fly past the windows of the car. There seemed to be something like apartment buildings and occasional stores scattered about their route through the city. It was all wholly unfamiliar. She’d never been to this side of Cipritine before.

“The Hierarchy doesn’t tell you why,” Garrus answered, merging off the highway. “Besides, if he did, I would have told you. One Hundred Percent.”

She looked over at him and nodded slowly. “Right…”

Their little treaty from the week before had certainly helped to make things more amenable in the house. Things weren’t perfect, but they were better. She still wasn’t sure if she actually believed him, but in this case she had no choice but to follow his lead.

Unmistakably, the base came into view. It continually kept surprising her, how in some ways Palaven was utterly alien, but in many it was similar to home. There was the tarmac, hangars, administration buildings, barracks. She could even see training grounds off in the distance. Soldiers and trucks and ships moved about in a very coordinated order. Effortless efficiency. The gears of war flowed like clockwork here.

Garrus parked in front of the tallest building, entirely cool grey stone and darkened windows.

“High Command,” she commented, reading the sign out front as she got out. She smoothed her shirt and looked up at the building. Decisions that had affected her life and countless others of her race were made in this very place. It chilled her.

“This way,” Garrus said, holding out a hand to point the way. “We have to get you checked in.”

One very long and scarily thorough check in process later, Shepard had an ID card on a lanyard that she was pretty sure doubled as another tracking device. She followed Garrus through the halls, not even bothering to pretend like she wasn’t staring and mentally cataloguing everything she saw. Unfortunately, she didn’t see much of anything. Doors were shut and the halls were quiet.

Garrus led them to a sort of waiting area at the end of a hallway. A younger turian man with red markings sat at a small desk next to the large double doors. He gave them both a glance over as they approached.

“Names?” he asked.

“You know damn well our names,” Garrus replied, sounding exasperated. So she hadn’t misread the assistant’s dismissive tone. And apparently Garrus didn’t like this guy much either.

“I’m sorry,” the assistant simpered. “The Primarch has many visitors, you’ll have to be more specific.”

Garrus’ eyes narrowed. She thought about just letting him handle this little power struggle, but she knew what would end this.

She put a hand on the desk. “Please tell the Primarch that Archangel and Flaming Death are here to see him,” she said in a luxurious tone. She smiled at the assistant, whose face had fallen flat. She turned towards the seats arranged against the wall. “Oh, and I’ll take a water when you get a chance. Anything for you?” She looked to Garrus. He was looking at her in surprise, but managed to shake his head. “Just the water then. Thanks.”

She sat down and crossed her legs primly. Garrus sat next to her. The assistant disappeared into the office after a moment of furiously typing on his computer.

“Nicely done,” Garrus said once the assistant had left.

“Scary codenames can get you pretty far in my experience.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

The doors opened again. “The Primarch will see you now,” the assistant said, holding open the door. Shepard nodded to him as they passed by.

The large office beyond was a flurry of activity. Recruits running every which way, setting up… was that film equipment?

“Major, Shepard, you’re right on time,” the Primarch greeted them, stepping away from a clustered group of turians. Garrus saluted and Shepard nodded.

“What’s going on?” Shepard asked, watching as two recruits were setting up a light on a tall stand.

“The Alliance requested that an interview be conducted. It’s been six months on Earth since the arrangement and they’d like to do a check in with the happy couple.”

Shepard’s mouth fell open and she was grateful to see Garrus’ do the same.

“Sir, I don’t think--” Garrus started.

“I’m really bad on camera,” Shepard stepped in. Her last interview had gone very poorly, she’d punched the damn reporter. Not that she hadn’t deserved it, but still.

“Be that as it may, this interview will go ahead. Though, you should be pleased, Shepard. The reporter interviewing you two is from Earth.”

That cut through her sudden nerves. “Wait… there’s another human here?” 

The Primarch nodded. “Yes.” The doors to the office opened again. “Oh, I think she’s here.”

“Get me a coffee, non-dairy fat free creamer, no sugar, and a water, room temperature. Now,” a distinctly not dual-toned voice declared to the busy office. 

Shepard’s face fell. She knew that voice. No, it couldn’t be. The universe didn’t hate her this much, did it? She turned around to see the first human face she’d seen in person in six months and god, she wanted to punch her all over again.

“Commander Shepard.” 

“Khalisah,” Shepard replied, her fists curling involuntarily. Khalisah was flanked by several members of her own crew, who were all jumping straight into the chaos surrounding them. Khalisah smiled at Shepard, like a cat smiles at a canary.

“Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani,” she said, approaching the Primarch and holding out her hand. Shepard’s smug grin fell as the Primarch shook it expertly. Oh, fine, Khalisah got a pass on the whole handshake misfire. “Alliance News Network.”

“Ooh, what happened, Jilani? Westerlund News fire you?” Shepard asked.

Khalisah shot her a glare. “Please. Westerlund wishes they could afford me. I’m an anchor now.” 

“Do you two know each other?” the Primarch asked.

“We’re acquainted,” Shepard said, through gritted teeth.

“I’ve interviewed the Commander before. She gave a ...memorable performance.” She laughed a little, then grew rapidly serious. “Primarch, this setup won’t work. These windows make it impossible to control the light. We’re going to need to use the other side of the office.”

“Cosna,” the primarch called to his assistant, who almost immediately appeared at his side and handed him a datapad. “Flip the room around. Ms. al-Jilani wants it set up on the other side.”

Cosna nodded and quickly scurried off to relay the orders.

“I am not going to be interviewed by this hack,” Shepard said to the Primarch.

But he wasn’t listening, he was frowning down at the datapad. “I wish I could stay, but I’m afraid I have some pressing business to attend to.” He looked at Khalisah. “If you need anything, my assistant Cosna can help.” He nodded to her and left the room.

Khalisah turned on her. “Relax, Commander. I’m a professional. Let’s let bygones, be bygones.” She held out her hand. Shepard glared at it for a second, but then took it. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” There was something in Khalisah’s palm that she passed to Shepard. Khalisah then turned her eyes to scrutinize her other unfortunate subject. “You’re Major Vakarian.”

“Yes--”

“No, no. It wasn’t a question.” She eyed him up and down and then rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’ll do.” 

Shepard frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Khalisah surveyed the crew turning the room around. She snapped her fingers at a passing recruit carrying a light. “Put that 1k at a 45 on my right with a fresnel and two silks. Or, so help me god, you won’t live to have children.” The recruit looked like he had no idea what she was talking about, but was terrified nonetheless.

As stealthily as she could, Shepard looked down at what Khalisah had passed her. It was a small folded slip of paper. Inside she recognized Anderson’s handwriting. ‘We haven’t forgotten you.’

Garrus gave Shepard a worried glance. She instinctively crushed the paper in her hand, then frowned. Not exactly one hundred percent.

“Oh, and Commander, don’t worry,” Khalisah said, turning back to them. “I brought enough make up that we can make even you look acceptable by human standards.” She cast a derisive glance about the room. “Hide those hideous freckles.” And she walked away to go berate more crew before Shepard could get in a reply.

 

Garrus looked up as Shepard dropped down on the couch next to him. It’d been almost an hour since they’d first arrived at the office and the interview still hadn’t started. They seemed to be getting close though, or at very least the chaos was dying down. Shepard’s face was now covered with a thick layer of some sort of paint similar in color to her skin. It made her complexion look flat and hid her freckles. He didn’t realize they were so derided by other humans.

“I am going to murder that woman,” Shepard said, darkly under her breath.

He watched Khalisah continue to order around crew members. “How do you know her?”

“She interviewed me once.” Shepard folded her arms and sunk lower on the couch. “Or rather, she accosted me with a camera as I was leaving the hospital, insulted me, and, even worse, the many people who sacrificed their lives in battle. So I punched her. And the video went viral.”

“Viral?”

“Uh… popular on the internet.  _ Rock ‘em, Sock ‘em, Shepards _ was the number two most downloaded omnitool app that summer,” she grumbled. 

She frowned for a moment and glanced over at him, as if she was trying to decide something. Wordlessly, she moved closer to him and held her hand out. Slowly, he took it. She pressed a small crumpled slip of paper into his palm. Making sure they weren’t being observed, he glanced down at it. A phrase was written on it that he couldn’t read.

“She gave me that,” Shepard said in a very low voice. “It’s from Anderson.”

“What’s it say?”

“We haven’t forgotten you.”

He looked at her as he passed the slip back. Did she feel forgotten? He tried to find the answer on her face, but she was keeping up a very solid mask.

“What are you doing!?” Khalisah’s shrill tone cut through all other noise. “That 150 is supposed to be  _ my _ eyelight!”

“So I’ve never been interviewed before, what should I expect?” he asked Shepard, keeping his voice low as if they were trying to hide in plain sight.

“From Khalisah, leading questions, mockery, insults, lies. And then she’ll turn it all inside out in the editing room and make her look like the victim.”

He nodded slowly. “So how do we win?”

She looked over at him and a corner of her mouth tugged upwards. “Keep your answers short, don’t let her goad you, and smile.”

He practiced a smile and she frowned. “What?” he asked.

“Too much teeth,” she advised. He tried again but she still looked unsure. “Maybe leave the smiling to me.”

“Alright, we’re finally ready now,” Khalisah said, drawing near. “Sit up, Commander. The camera and marital bliss have already added ten kilos. There’s no reason to add more.” 

Shepard gave her a look that would have crippled lesser men. But she sat up, the back of her hair mussed from where it’d been pressed against the back of the couch. Garrus cleared his throat and pointed to the back of his head. Shepard tried to fix her hair but missed the majority of the mess.

“Better?” she asked. He shook his head. “Just get it for me.” 

He hesitated but then brushed the strands back into place. He’d never touched her hair before. It was soft and the light played intriguingly across the strands. 

“There.” He pulled his hand away, feeling oddly reluctant.

Khalisah sat in the chair across from them. “I’m going to start with the Commander first and then bring in the Major later.” She made a waving motion towards him.

Guess that was his signal to leave. He gave Shepard an apologetic glance and stood just out of the pool of light, next to Cosna, who was observing with rapt interest.

“Are you ready, Commander?” Khalisah asked, pulling up a long page of notes on her omnitool. 

Shepard nodded tersely, her posture stiff but immaculate. 

“Alright, let’s begin then.” Khalisah turned to look at the camera behind Shepard’s shoulder. She pressed a few buttons on her omnitool and the interview finally started. “I’m Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani and this is an Alliance News special report. I’m reporting to you today from the planet Palaven, homeworld of the turians, where I am only the second human to set foot on this world. Today, I’m here to interview the first. Commander Jane Shepard was arguably one of the most well known women on Earth due to her heroics during the First Contact War. And now she holds the honor of being not only the first human to live on Palaven, but to be married to a turian. She left Earth in a storm of controversy, but now it’s been six months and it’s time to check in.”

Khalisah turned to face Shepard. Garrus watched one of the cameras zoom in on her face, something about the light made her eyes seem shiny.

“Commander--”

“It’s just Shepard,” she clarified.

“Of course. So, Shepard…” Khalisah gave her a pitying look. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine.” Shepard suddenly remembered to smile. “Thank you.”

“You can be honest with me. It’s just us girls.”

“I am fine,” Shepard repeated, stiffening a little.

“I have to imagine that these past six months have been difficult for you.”

“Well, it’s only been five here, twenty-eight hour days and all, so…”

“But to be separated from everyone you’ve ever know and surrounded by such an alien culture.”

“It’s been…” Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment. “I won’t pretend that it’s been without challenges. But it’s been ...enlightening.”

“In what way?”

“Well… it’s true that Palaven is very different than Earth. But in a lot of ways it’s similar. We have more in common than we think.”

Cosna next to him seemed surprised by Shepard’s answer. Garrus was too.

“What do you mean?”

Shepard thought for a moment. “There’s… houses here. And coffee. Family dinners. And a military base still looks like a military base. Even more than that… the turians may have won the war, but they lost people too. There’s grieving families on both sides of the galaxy.”

Khalisah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I mentioned earlier the controversy of you leaving Earth. Can you speak to that?”

“Some people thought that I was a victim, others thought I was a traitor. Humanity rarely sees eye to eye on anything, why should this be any different?”

“What do you see yourself as?”

Shepard paused, a frown appearing and disappearing in the corners of her mouth. “I’m… not sure.”

“So what has been your favorite part of Palaven?”

Spirits, Khalisah was all over the map with her questions. Obviously a tactic to catch Shepard off guard, which so far had appeared to be unsuccessful.

“The people.”

“What do you miss most about Earth?”

“The people.”

“Besides that.”

“The music.”

“What’s it like being married to a turian?”

Shepard’s lips pursed for a moment. “I imagine it’s like many other marriages. Figuring out how to do life with another person is a process. Especially when you meet on your wedding day.”

“Did you ever think that you’d be part of an arranged union?”

“No.”

Khalisah quirked an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve heard reports that you left behind a special someone on Earth.”

“I left behind a lot of special people.”

“Oh, come on, Shepard,” Khalisah said in a teasing tone. “We all know what was happening between you and Major Alenko.”

Alenko. He’d heard Shepard mention that name a few times before. But never in the context of anything outside of stories about her squad. Spirits… did she have to end a serious romantic relationship for this?

“I thought this interview was for the Alliance News Network, not a tabloid,” Shepard tried to dodge.

“Perhaps there’s more than just the rumors say.”

Shepard took a measured breath. “Major Kaidan Alenko was a gifted member of my squad and a good friend. But that is all. And that’s all I wish to say about that topic.”

“Very well. Perhaps we should move on.”

“Yes, perhaps we should.”

“Let’s bring in your husband.” Khalisah looked over at Garrus. Husband, right. That was him. Cautiously, he sat down next to Shepard, blinking a little in the bright light. He was suddenly keenly aware of his posture and how much taller he was than Shepard on this couch.

“Major Garrus Vakarian,” Khalisah said, smiling a little at him. He nodded his head. Shepard had faltered a little on the short answers advice, but he could make up for that. Help get this interview back on track and give Shepard a breather.

Khalisah looked between the two of them for a moment. “So… how’s the sex?”

Shepard made a sound like she’d been punched. His jaw dropped straight open. 

“We are  _ not _ answering that question,” she said, shaking her head.

Khalisah regarded him for a moment. She seemed to be thriving on their horror. “Major, you’re what… two, two and a quarter meters? And Shepard, you’re barely one and two-thirds. How does--”

“I’m  _ not answering _ that question.” All attempts by Shepard to maintain a pleasant facade had been abandoned. He could hardly blame her. Were all human reporters like this?

Khalisah chuckled. “Oh, fine then. I guess, we’ll just move on to the big surprise.”

Shepard froze beside him.

“What surprise?” he asked, looking between the humans. Did he miss something?

Khalisah smiled. “Do you want to tell him, Shepard? Or shall I? I think it should be you.”

Shepard was outright glaring at Khalisah.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly.

“Well, I have gotten access to some  _ exclusive _ medical records and let’s just that baby makes three.”

_ What? _

“That is a complete lie!” Shepard snapped, her eyes flashed.

“Also… we have different aminos acids, we can’t reproduce.” Not to mention that they hadn’t actually had sex, but he certainly wasn’t going to say that.

“Oh, I didn’t say it was  _ yours _ , Major Vakarian.” Khalisah’s grin spread wide, baring too many teeth for polite company.

“That’s it. This interview is over.” Shepard reached into her shirt and ripped out the microphone. “I can’t believe you would pull this shit again. You are disgusting.”

“I’m not the one married to an animal.”

Shepard shot to her feet. It took Garrus a moment to realize that he was the one Khalisah was insulting. 

“You don’t know the first thing about him,” Shepard said in a low sharp tone.

He stood up and caught Shepard’s elbow. “We should just go,” he suggested. She pulled her elbow away, but strode out of the light.

“That’s right, run away,” Khalisah goaded after them. “Just like you did on Mars.”

Shepard froze. She turned around slowly, her face cold and still. “Don’t you.  _ Dare _ . Talk about Mars.”

“All of Humanity knows that you abandoned those civilians, those soldiers to die. And now you’ve done it again. Abandoned Earth to join the winning team.”

Shepard was shaking, unsteady breaths being forced from her nose. “You don’t know anything,” she whispered harshly.

Khalisah stood and walked closer. “No wonder the Alliance discharged you. They saw you for what you really are. A cowardly traitor, willing to sleep with the enemy.” She spat the last words at Shepard and then smiled cruelly. “Go ahead,  _ Commander _ . Punch me again. The whole world is watching.”

He saw Shepard’s gaze briefly flicker over to the cameras still recording behind them. She took a calming breath and straightened up. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

“That’s right. You’re too busy giving it to your husband, the skull-face.”

Shepard stepped towards her at that. They were right in each other’s faces. “Don’t. Call him that.”

“Or what? He’ll rip out my throat with his teeth?”

“No. I fight my own battles.” Shepard suddenly pulled back and head butted Khalisah, like a damn Krogan. Red blood began to pour from the reporter’s nose as she wailed. “If I ever see your face again, it’s not going to be your nose I break next time.”

And with that, Shepard turned and left the office. Garrus followed after her, feeling strangely proud.


	18. Show Me Yours

Shepard burst through the doors and stormed down the hallway beyond. She could hardly see, she was so furious. How dare Khalisah say those things? About her? About Garrus?? She tore around the corner, down another hall. It was a pack of lies! All of it!! She slammed open another set of doors. Khalisah deserved more than just a headbutt. She would have gotten more if there weren’t cameras rolling. Shepard stopped when she reached a dead end. Looking around, she realized that she had no idea where she was.

“Is there a reason you’ve led us to Accounting?” Garrus asked, sounding far too calm.

She turned back to see him several feet behind her, watching her carefully. “I don’t know where I’m going!” She waved her arms emphatically. She huffed a breath and began pacing across the hall. She couldn’t stand still. Being angry always gave her excess energy. 

He watched her for a few more moments. “Well, I doubt they’ll let us leave without at least some sort of debrief after…” He trailed off, smart enough to know not to finish that sentence. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I don’t know!” How was he so calm? She couldn’t even think straight.

“Follow me then.”

He set a rapid pace back down the hall, which was exactly what she wanted. He led her down her some stairs and out a different door than they’d come in. She jogged to keep up with him as he led her down a few wide paths and then across the tarmac. He was making a beeline for one of the hangars. It was empty of personnel when they entered, but a few frigates were in dry dock. She’d never seen the turian ships up close before. They were strange in design, flat and angular. 

Garrus turned and headed for another smaller door. He scanned his ID and held the door open for her. The room inside was small. A few computer terminals were against the walls, large crowded shelves in the back.

“If you need to break something, I could probably dig something up for you,” he said, walking in after her. 

“What is this place?” she asked, looking around. Her anger finally subsiding a little after the brisk walk.

“This is where I work.” He pulled over a crate next to a terminal and offered it to her.

She realized that she had no clue what Garrus did at the base all day. He was a sniper in the war, but there wasn’t much call for those skills out of combat. 

“You’re an engineer?” She wandered to the shelves in the back. Various bits of mods and deconstructed guns covered most of the shelves, a few spare terminals and repair manuals.

“Definitely not.” He chuckled a little and sat at one of the computer terminals. “They’re still trying to figure out what to do with me now that my ...special assignment has been terminated. My Executor has me cleaning up the firing algorithms on these frigates for now.”

“Sounds like busy work,” she commented, moving back towards the crate.

“It is. But it’s just temporary.” 

She sat down and let out a breath. They were quiet for a moment. Her anger still simmered, but it wasn’t boiling over now.

“Do… you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really.”

He nodded and they were quiet for another minute.

“Just so I’m clear… you’re…  not preg--”

“No,” she said reproachfully.

“Right, yep.” He was suddenly very interested in the ceiling. She could practically see the other question in his very controlled expression.

“Just ask,” she sighed.

He looked at her for a moment, but then shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. She could just let it go. But… she wanted him to know for some reason. “Alenko’s not my boyfriend. Never was,” she offered. He glanced over towards her. And even though he wasn’t asking, she felt she should clarify. “He was ...sweet on me, I suppose. But I was his commanding officer and there’s rules about that. Plus, I wasn’t interested.”

Garrus nodded and fiddled with the computer terminal for a moment. She watched him. What Khalisah had said to her was unforgivable. But Shepard found herself also really bothered by the few insults that she’d lobbed in Garrus’ direction. He didn’t deserve that.

“She shouldn’t have called you those names,” Shepard said, drawing his attention back to her.

“What? Skull-face?”

She nodded. “She shouldn’t have said a lot things. But she definitely shouldn’t have called you that.” 

“Oh, well… Personally, I find spiky bastard more insulting,” he drawled. “I know for a fact my parents were bonded.”

She shook her head and fought off a smile.

 

Garrus would take it as a personal victory if he’d gotten Shepard to smile. He’d gotten close, he could tell. He’d just have to try harder. It was exhilarating in a strange way to be so close to her ire, but not the focus of it. Like watching a star explode from a safe distance.

She groaned and pressed her face into her hands. “That could not have gone any worse.”

“No, probably not.”

She huffed a breath and sat back against the wall, crossing her arms. “I even told you. Short answers, don’t let her goad you. Couldn’t take my own goddamn advice.”

“She didn’t make it easy for you.”  _ How’s the sex _ , he remembered suddenly. His neck burned blue. “For either of us.”

“I could strangle her,” she said, tightening her fists. “She gives journalists everywhere a bad name.”

He regarded her for a moment. A wise voice of caution told him that he should probably just give her space, but since when had he ever listened to that voice? “Why… does she bother you so much? Nothing she said was the truth.”

She was quiet for a moment. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or not.” She shook her head and frowned. “Once that interview airs, a hell of a lot more people are going to agree with her.”

“Do you agree with her?”

She gave him a confused look. “Of course not.”

“And do you stand by the decisions you’ve made in light of your circumstances?”

“Yes…?”

He shrugged. “Then it doesn’t matter what people think.”

She blinked at him. “Of course it does.”

“Why?” he pushed back.

She sputtered for a moment. “Be-because it does! If my people don’t trust me--”

“Do you really think that anyone who actually knows you would be swayed by Khalisah?”

“Well, no--”

“Then who are you worried about?”

She looked perturbed. “I--” She frowned and looked down at her hands. She was quiet for a very long moment. He didn’t expect her to answer. It felt like enough that he’d gotten this far in the conversation without breaking this odd bubble of honesty between them.

“I’m worried about me,” she admitted in a very low voice. Her voice sounded hollow. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know. I  _ don’t _ know if I’m a victim… or a traitor. And if people reach a consensus, I can’t prove them wrong because…” She sighed. “Because I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m not a soldier, I’m not a spy, I’m not even a citizen. I’m just… the wife of a Major.”

He didn’t dare speak. When they’d agreed to one hundred percent honesty, he hadn’t ever expected for her to be this… vulnerable with him.

She sighed and leaned back, resting her head against the wall behind her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t think I realized how permanent a decision I was making when I agreed to this.” She looked over at him as if noticing him for the first time. “You didn’t even get to make a choice. You were just given orders.”

He nodded a little.

“I mean, Jesus, Garrus. This is the rest of our lives we’re talking about. They’ve changed everything to-to… I don’t know--have an intergalactic pissing contest. Doesn’t that make you angry?” Her eyes flashed again.

He thought for a moment. He could dodge the question while still keeping the letter of their agreement. But he didn’t want to. He wanted her to understand where he stood. He… wanted to be vulnerable too.

“My life has been dictated by the Hierarchy since I was fifteen. Granted, not usually to the extent of picking my mate for me. But-- you’re expected to follow orders without explanation, trust that the Generals and the Primarch know what they’re doing.” He was reminded of Fedorian’s all too calm expression when he told him about the humans lack of medigel. “You’re not supposed to know that they’re fallible. And maybe even willfully wrong. 

“But after what I’ve seen, after what’s happened… I’m right there with you, Shepard. Even if that makes me a bad turian.”

She nodded a little. They were quiet for a minute again.

“So how do we win?” she asked.

He let out a breath and shook his head. “Hell if I know.”

She breathed a humorless laugh. “What a pair we make,” she said, sounding tired.

He looked at her. “You know, if we work together… I bet we’ll think of something. I have faith in us.”

“Really?” she said, sounding like she didn’t believe him.

He nodded. “One hundred percent.”

And she smiled.


	19. Caution to the Wind

Shepard glared down at the stubborn stain on the stove. This stupid little puddle of burnt sauce had been the bane of her existence for the entire morning. She’d tried every cleaning agent she could find in the house and it still remained. It felt like it was mocking her. Her and her homemaking skills, which were pathetically few to begin with.

So when the door chime rang, she took it as a welcome distraction.

“Solana, thank god,” Shepard said, holding the door open. 

Solana smiled. “Hey. Everything alright?”

“Fine, just bored out of my mind. Come on in.”

Solana made her way to the living room, making herself at home on the chair. “I feel like I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She looked carefully at Shepard. “How have you been?”

“Uh, good. Better more recently,” Shepard said, sitting down on the couch. “Had, uh… a rough patch, I guess you could call it.”

Solana’s eyes narrowed. “Do I need to kick my brother’s ass for you?”

Shepard smiled. “That won’t be necessary.”

“True, you could probably kick his ass just fine.”

Shepard laughed. “So what brings you by?”

“Well, actually,” Solana said, drawing the word out to three times its length. “Would you mind if I kidnapped you for a couple hours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hey, that’s the right answer. Get your shoes. We’re wheels up in five.”

One whirlwind of activity later, Shepard was sitting in the front seat of Solana’s car. All the windows were rolled down as she drove down streets much faster than Garrus ever took them with some sort of synth music blasting through the speakers. The baseline resonated up through the seats. They made one stop where Solana purchased way more food than the two of them would ever be able to eat and then they were back in the car again.

Shepard almost asked where they were going as they sped somewhere at a hair-raising pace. But she was suddenly glad she hadn’t said anything as they pulled up in front of a long building with many windows. It was unmistakably a hospital. She followed Solana through the busy halls, carrying one of their several bags of food. When they reached the third floor, Solana seemed to know every nurse and doctor they passed.

“Lunch has arrived!” Solana declared triumphantly as they walked into a room at the end of the hall. “And I found that Shepard you ordered as well.”

Galena looked up from her book that she was reading in a chair by the window and smiled. “Hello dear,” she said. Solana touched her forehead to her mother’s briefly. “Shepard, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hello Galena,” Shepard said, smiling a little to hide how awkward she was feeling.

“Mom and I have lunch every week and she said last week that she wanted you to come too because I’m not enough company anymore.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said.” Galena chuckled.

“And I said that I guess I could share, since I’m such a kind and generous person.”

“And humble,” Galena added.

“And humble, how could I forget that?” Solana took the bags of food from Shepard and put them on a wheeled table. “Let’s see, I will go borrow a chair from old man Corinthus next door. Jane, do you want to divvy up?”

She disappeared out the door and Shepard reached into the bags to pull out their dishes.

“How have you been settling in?” Galena asked. She was watching her when Shepard looked up. To Shepard’s eyes, Galena didn’t look sick. She had the same pale grey plates as her daughter, the same blue eyes as her son.

“Uh, good. Much more used to how things work now.” She separated her levo food from the rest, putting far too much care into the task as she had no clue what to say. She’d never been very good in hospitals.

“I remember when I first came to Cipritine. It was overwhelming. So busy and large, a far cry from what I was used to.”

“You didn’t grow up here?” Shepard pulled over the table.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She tapped the dark purple markings that stretched across her cheeks and brow, different from the rest of her family. “Aephus, born and raised. It’s a small colony not too far from here.”

“What brought you to Palaven?”

“My mother wanted to me to do my military training here in the capital, thought it would help me advance more than I would out on our little colony world.”

“It must have worked. Garrus said you used to work for High Command.”

Galena nodded. “I suppose it did. I certainly wouldn’t have met Castis otherwise.” A wry smile appeared in her eyes. “Much to the dismay of his entire family,” she said in a conspiratorial tone that was very similar to Solana’s.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to be on the lookout, Mr. Corinthus,” Solana’s loud voice came from the hall. She appeared in the doorway a moment later, holding a chair. “He’s trying to set me up with his grandson again,” she grumbled as she sat down. Galena gave her a sympathetic smile. “Anyway, what are we talking about here?”

“I was telling Shepard about when I first moved to Cipritine.” Galena handed Solana one of the dextro plates of food. “And how I met your father.”

“Ah, the shame of the Vakarian clan,” Solana said, sounding very over dramatic. “Their shining son’s head turned by an Aephusian.” She snapped her mandibles back in with an audible click and then grinned.

“This sounds like a story,” Shepard said, looking between the two of them.

“It is! A love story for the ages,” Solana said around a mouthful of food. “Let me tell it, let me tell it.”

“Before you do,” Galena said calmly. “How much do you know about turian clan ranks?”

“Next to nothing.” Shepard shook her head.

“Alright. So while our society is built on a meritocracy, there is still a very definitive ranking of the different clans and families.”

“Helps determine who takes whose name when bonding, order of ascension, that kind of thing,” Solana added.

“The Vakarian name is highly respected,” Galena said rather cryptically.

Shepard frowned. “How highly respected?”

They looked at each other as they tried to figure out how to answer. “Let’s just say,” Solana said, slowly. “Garrus most likely will be a General someday and even Primarch isn’t too far out of the question.”

“Oh.”

“There’s still a lot to take into consideration before that can be said with any certainty,” Galena cautioned. 

Solana shook her head a little in not-quite mock disagreement and smiled. Shepard just nodded, feeling a little daunted by this discovery. She was married to a literal and figurative blue blood.

“So anyway, Mom was a recon scout back in the day and she was on Dad’s squad ‘cause this was even before he worked for C-Sec. And they were tracking this Captain who was selling military secrets to the batarians. You were just supposed to track him down and report back in, right?” Solana turned to look at her mother.

Galena nodded. “But the two of us wound up apprehending him.”

“And Dad wanted to dispatch him right then and there. Put a stop to his operation immediately.” Solana grinned. “But Mom wouldn’t let him. Tell her what you said.”

“Oh, I don’t remember what I said.”

“You stood up to your commanding officer, telling him basically that what he wanted to do was wrong and without honor, and you don’t remember what you said?”

Shepard’s eyebrows jumped up. “Whoa.”

“He wasn’t happy with me to say the least,” Galena said with a smile. “But he listened. Which was good, because it turned out that the Captain was just one of a whole team selling secrets that we never would have found if he was dead.”

“And it was also good, because the world would be a darker place without me… and Garrus, whatever, I guess.”

“I was on Castis’ squad for the next few years after that and had no clue that he thought of me as anything other than a valued member of the team. Until the day my papers were officially signed for my transfer to High Command. He signed off on the transfer and then asked me to dinner. And it wasn’t too long after that that we decided we wanted to be bondmates.”

Shepard smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“Ohhh, we haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Solana said. “So the whole Vakarian family was  _ not _ happy that Dad wanted to bond with Mom. They thought that her lack of rank wouldn’t bring honor to the family. Do you remember what Dad said?”

“Now that I do remember. He said--”

“To lose Galena would bring more shame to our family than we could ever hope to bear,” Castis finished, his voice coming from behind Shepard. 

Shepard turned around to see him in the door, another unreadable expression on his face. She froze, suddenly feeling like she was intruding in this lunch she’d been invited to.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Oh, my check up is now, isn’t it?” Galena asked. Castis nodded and walked into the room. “So sorry to cut this lunch short.”

“That’s fine,” Solana said, scooting the table away so Galena could stand. Castis helped her to her feet and kept an arm around her so she could keep her balance.

“It was good to see you again, Shepard,” Galena said, smiling at her warmly. “If Solana doesn’t mind, perhaps you could come back next week?”

Solana sighed dramatically. “I suppose.” She smiled.

“I’d like that,” Shepard replied, really meaning it.

“See you next week then.” And they left the room.

Shepard and Solana cleaned up from lunch and she drove her back to the house. However, it seemed that Solana’s normally jovial mood was missing. It was a much quieter drive back. 

Till finally, out of the blue, Solana said, “It’s called Corpalis syndrome.” Shepard glanced over at her, she was staring straight ahead. Her voice was matter of fact. “It’s a neurological degenerative condition.”

“You don’t have to--”

“No. You should know. Everyone else does. And I don’t think Garrus would tell you… he doesn’t like to talk about it. Not that any of us  _ like _ to, but you know…”

Shepard just nodded a little. “...is it…?”

“Yeah, it’s… terminal,” she said, sounding very detached from the meaning of the word. “There was a while there we were hoping treatment would provide some sort of long-term solution, but… we’re past that now.”

Not knowing what else to say, Shepard settled on, “I’m so sorry,” in a low voice.

Solana shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “We’ve all had time to get used to it, I guess. Like a really shitty house guest. It’s still ...awful. But it’s what’s normal now. As bad as that sounds.”

“No, I understand what you mean.”

“She’s really making the best of it though. Dad’s even trying to see if they can squeeze in a trip to Thessia before… Anyway, I figured you should know.”

“Thanks,” Shepard said quietly. And they were silent for the rest of the drive.

 

Garrus set the simulation to run. He’d spent the better part of the last week trying to improve the algorithm’s speed and by his calculations he should be successful. Hopefully. Spirits, he hoped this would be the attempt that worked. Finally. A low sigh escaped from him as he sat back in his chair and watched the progress bar fill bit by bit. He checked the time on his omnitool and groaned. Even time was moving slowly today. The monotony was broken when suddenly the door to his little workspace banged open.

“Surprise inspection, recruits!” Nihlus cried, kicking the door open. “Atten _ tion! _ ”

Garrus just blinked at him, nonplussed, and sank further down into his chair.

“Whoa,” Nihlus said, standing up and looking around. “When you said they’d moved you to the dry-dock, this wasn’t what I was expecting.” He shut the door behind him and looked further into the room. “Is there--nope. Wow. This is it, huh?”

“Yeah, this is it,” Garrus growsed.

Nihlus nodded and sat down in the other more-broken chair. It rocked beneath him. He gave Garrus a look. “So this is where careers go to die.”

“Thanks.” Garrus checked his simulation, five percent complete.

“I would apologize, but Garrus…” Nihlus looked pointedly around at the shoddy equipment filling the room. “What are you doing here?”

“They have me cleaning up firing algorithms.” He gestured back to the computer that was starting to let out a low hum. It always did that when doing anything more strenuous than checking mail.

Nihlus raised a brow plate. “So they have you fighting for, what, a three percent improvement?”

“Two,” he admitted.

“Man. Who did you piss off?”

“It’s just temporary,” Garrus said, kicking at the weak leg on Nihlus’ chair. It rocked side to side and Nihlus had to sit up to keep from falling over.

“Yeah, that still doesn’t answer the question. Two months ago, you were golden with that ‘special assignment’. Meetings with the Generals, the mighty Fedorian himself. What happened?”

Garrus looked back at the progress bar, still five percent. Great, the console had probably frozen again. “It, uh, it was suspended.”

“So can you tell me what it was then?”

“No.” He tapped on the screen and the progress bar moved up a percentage. So not frozen, just very very slow. That seemed about right.

Nihlus rumbled in frustration and leaned back in his chair. “Fine. This just seems like a waste, is all.” He picked up a broken mod that Garrus was in the process of fixing. “Throw the second best sniper in our division into a closet and have him fixing algorithms.”

“Second best?” Garrus scoffed.

Nihlus grinned, but didn’t let Garrus waylay his friendly tirade. “Especially when you could be with  _ me _ in the Spectre training program.” He batted his shoulder. “Come on! If you asked the Executor, he wouldn’t turn you down. Not after the war.”

Garrus shook his head. “You know my dad, he has opinions--”

“I bet he also had opinions about you being bonded to a human, but look at you now!”

Garrus actually didn’t know what his father really thought about Shepard. He knew where he stood on her race as a whole, but Shepard had entered their lives on the express wishes of the Hierarchy. A good turian like his father would never stand opposed to that kind of order. Feeling more than a little resigned to his situation, Garrus just shook his head and watched his progress bar move to eight percent.

“How  _ is _ Mrs. Vakarian?” Nihlus asked.

Garrus rolled his eyes, a decidedly human gesture that he accidentally picked up from Shepard, but very useful all the same. “She’s fine.”

“Settling in?”

Garrus looked suspiciously over at Nihlus. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” Nihlus mandibles flicked back in a half-grin. “Isn’t this what adults do? Ask after each others’ mates and complain about work?”

Garrus chuckled. He’d met Nihlus on the first day of bootcamp. In some ways, he supposed, they were adults. But in many others, he felt that they were both still those fifteen year old kids, more than a little scared to be so far from home yet excited for the possibilities of the future. “Yeah, she’s settling in… as well as you can on an alien planet, I suppose.”

“Can’t even imagine.” Nihlus hummed with wonder. “Did she really bring only one bag from Earth?”

“She calls it a footlocker. And yeah.”

Nihlus shook his head. “If I was leaving Palaven permanently, I’d need like… I don’t even know, a whole shuttle.”

“You practically brought one to basic.” Garrus grinned at him. He could still see Nihlus straining to drag his belongings into their bunk. The bags were bigger than he was. It was a far cry from Shepard’s half empty locker. “You had more bags than you could carry.”

“Why else do you think I made friends with you?” Nihlus grinned back and kicked Garrus’ chair. It was his turn to quickly adjust to keep from falling as Nihlus laughed at him. He stopped when his omnitool chimed with an incoming message. Reading it quickly, Nihlus sighed.

“Duty calls,” Garrus said, straightening his chair.

“Manae calls.”

Garrus looked up. “Really? Manae?”

Nihlus nodded. “Gonna be gone for about eight weeks. Try not to miss me too much.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Garrus snarked back.

Nihlus reached out and shook Garrus’ hand. “I’ll keep you updated with my headshot count and, uh, you have fun with your numbers there, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled as Nihlus left with a wave. 

Garrus tried not to read too much into how he was literally being left behind. He was happy for Nihlus, really. He knew how hard he’d worked to be part of the Spectre training program. And he absolutely deserved it. Besides, Garrus’ appointment here was temporary. This was just temporary, his Executor had said. It was almost six weeks of ‘temporary’.

Frowning, he turned to check his progress bar--ten percent. He didn’t bother to stifle his frustrated rumble. Wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear him anyway. There was no point in pretending anymore--he was  _ bored _ . He needed something more to do. Cleaning algorithms was not enough to keep him occupied. Much less build a career off of, as Nihlus had pointed out.

But what the hell was he supposed to do? He wasn’t going to go ask to restart his special assignment. Life with Shepard was just finally achieving some sort of normalcy. Even if they’d planned for future intrusions in their home life, it was far too early to add that weight to the delicate balance.

Speaking of delicate balance, Garrus’ eyes slid over to the crate she’d sat on during their conversation a little less than a week ago. He hadn’t moved it from the spot next to his desk. He smiled a little. He’d give a year’s salary to have the vid of Shepard head-butting that awful reporter. Of course, there was no telling what he’d give to have another conversation with Shepard like the one they’d right here in his workspace. It was so unexpected for the two of them to be on the same page. It was the first time since… well, the first time ever.

Really, he realized, even if he could restart his assignment, he didn’t want to. If anyone deserved privacy, it was Shepard. She’d been through enough already, lost enough already. He wouldn’t add to that… anymore than he already had. Idly, he wished that he could give some of what she’d lost back to her.

Well. Why couldn’t he? 

He sat up as a plan slowly started to take shape in his mind. A small voice told him that this might be crazy, that this wouldn’t fix everything for Shepard, that the Hierarchy would never buy into it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. He stood up quickly and left his tiny workspace and frozen simulation. He had to find his Executor.


	20. Shoot the Breeze

Shepard got out of the car and surveyed their surroundings. The Palaven wilderness spread out as far as her eyes could see. She’d been to the Grand Canyon once during officer’s training. This view reminded her of it, but it wasn’t quite the same, not near so deep nor the intriguing striations of colors. It’d been a long drive out of Cipritine to get here. But this view was worth the trip.

“Where are we?” she asked, turning to look at Garrus as he got out too.

“The valley,” he answered. “Or the top of it, rather.” He walked around the car to stand next to her and pointed down to a shady grove in the valley. “We used to camp down there when Sol and I were kids.” Then he gestured to a cliff on the other side. “And over there is where my parents decided to be bondmates.”

Shepard smiled. “So is this where you murder me and then leave my body out in the sun for the buzzards to pick apart?” she asked, leaning against the side of the vehicle as he went towards the back of the car.

“Of course not,” Garrus said, pulling two large bags out of the trunk and shutting it. “The varren would get to you long before the birds would.” He gave her a self-satisfied grin as he sauntered away. She smiled and followed after him.

There was a tree near to the edge, casting some merciful shade. He set down the bags at the foot of it and unzipped one, pulling out a large twin-barrelled sniper rifle. “You know, before you arrived, the Alliance sent over your military record. Highly redacted of course.”

“Of course.” She watched him assemble the gun with practiced ease.

“And since we’re both trained on sniper rifles, I thought we could finally figure out who’s the better shot.” He snapped back the hammer with a satisfying click.

“This feels unfair.”

“Admitting defeat so soon?”

“You wish. No, I don’t think your gun will fit me.” She frowned. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed the awful unintentional innuendo.

“That’s why I brought this.” He pulled out a second smaller sniper rifle in the same style as his and passed it to her. It was still strange to her how comfortable he seemed giving her weapons. But she wasn’t ungrateful.

She examined it for a minute and smiled. “Aw, Fisher-Price My First Sniper Rifle,” she said in a sweet tone. 

“How’d you know?”

She looked up from the gun. “Oh, this was--you  _ started _ on sniper rifles?”

He nodded. “My father thought it would build character.”

“That… actually explains a lot. Well, you’ll have to show me how to assemble it because, besides that little stiletto you got me, I’ve never touched a gun that didn’t require bullets in my life. But I’m game. Should we make this a bit more interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Loser has to do dishes for a week?”

“Sounds good.” He held up his wrist and tapped it against hers. “Be sure to buy some extra lotion. I know how the soap dries out your hands.”

She grinned at him. “You’re really bad at trash talk.” She held the gun back out to him. “Show me how to put this bad boy together.”

“Alright.” He walked her through the steps, some of which were very similar, while others wildly different. But at the end, she understood the process and even though it was a vastly different machine, it still felt familiar in her hands. 

“What do you think?” he asked, watching her check her scope.

“It’s heavier than what I’m used to, but I can manage.” She took her stance and fired a test shot off into the sky. The sound was different, but the kickback was the same. A grin spread across her face. When she looked back to him, he had a similar grin on his face. 

“So what are we shooting?” she said, putting the safety back on and setting the gun down next to his. “Clay pigeons?”

“That’s for little kids,” he scoffed. He unzipped the second bag he’d brought and pulled out a bundle of cans. “Shooting empties, however, is for adults.”

She laughed. “I know we’re out in the middle of nowhere, but somehow drinking and guns still seems like a bad idea.”

“Relax, it’s non-alcoholic. And achiral too.” He tossed a can to her and opened one for him. They both took a long sip and then grimaced.

“Ugh god, does achiral mean tastes like just straight up carbonation?”

He looked down at the can. “It says fruit flavored, but I doubt that.”

She pinched her nose and chugged the rest of the drink.

“You could just pour it out,” he said as he did just that.

“I’m thirsty, it’s like a million degrees out here.” She shuddered. “Blech. Alright, what are we doing? Best two out of three?”

“I have plenty of heat sinks, so I say we go until we run out of cans.” He opened up another one and poured it out.

“Is it all achiral?” she asked trepidatiously.

“No. I brought some drinks for me and some sort of asari thing for you.”

“Thank god.” She opened another one and took a swig before just pouring it out as well. “Alright, you ready?”

He set down his can and went back to pick up his gun. “Give me a second,” he said, taking a moment to take his stance. “Okay, show me what you got.”

She chucked the can high up into the air. His barrell swung to follow the trajectory and then he shot it with ease.

“Maybe try to make it a little more challenging next time,” he drawled, sounding far too smug.

“I thought I’d let you warm up first,” she replied. “You’re welcome.”

“Your turn.”

She went back and picked up her gun. She took the safety off and found her stance. “Pull,” she ordered.

For a moment she was worried that she was so out of practice this was going to be embarrassing. But as he threw the can, muscle memory took over. Her head ducked, her grip tightened, and she shot clean through the can, sending it spinning to the ground.

“Not bad,” he said. “For a beginner.”

“See, there we go. That’s trash talk.” She grinned at him.

 

Garrus picked up the can. It was riddled with holes and barely holding together. But it was the only can they still had remaining. All the others had been blasted off into the valley. He tossed it to Shepard.

“Last chance,” she said, waving the can. “If you miss this one, I win.”

“I’ve only missed once and that was only because you decided to play dirty.”

She gave him a look of absolute disbelief. “Why, I never.”

They’d been shooting all afternoon. The sun was starting to set on the other side of the valley. It’d been very nearly a perfect day.

“Sure you never.” He felt his shoulder twinge. “Give me a minute first,” he said, setting his gun down and stretching.

“Yeah, I’m going to be feeling this for awhile.” She pressed against her own shoulder and sat down near the edge of the valley. He sat next to her and they just looked out at the view for a while. He’d always loved this place, a lot of good memories amongst these hills. He was happy to see that Shepard seemed to like it too. A light breeze was blowing her hair back from her face.

“There’s this place on Earth called the Grand Canyon,” she said, still looking out over the view. “It’s this huge canyon, like sixteen kilometers wide, almost a couple kilometers deep. It’s all red rock with this big blue sky spread as far as you can see. This place reminds me of there.”

“Sounds breathtaking,” he said, leaning back on his hands.

She nodded. “It’s… mind boggling in its scale. Both in terms of its size, but also the time it took to make it--millions and millions of years. I remember looking out over it and feeling so small. How all of the problems of my life were just a drop in the bucket in the scale of the whole universe.” She looked a little sheepish. “Kind of cheesy, I know.”

He looked over at her. “Jane Shepard: soldier, bondmate, philosopher.”

She laughed. “Not quite. It’s just… easy to think big thoughts in a big place.”

He turned back to the vista. The familiar hills and trees that he’d known since before he could remember somehow felt a little different. “I know what you mean.”

She was quiet for a minute, then she looked over at him. But she didn’t say anything.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She turned away. “Never mind.”

“No, what?”

“Oh, just…” She looked back to him. “I was just wondering. Did you… have anyone special before this?”

“Are you asking if I have a Major Alenko?” he quipped with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “This is why I said, never mind.”

He laughed and sat back up. “Ah, no,” he answered, growing serious. “I don’t--didn’t. Guess I figured I was a little young to be thinking about that just yet.”

“Seems the Hierarchy didn’t quite agree,” she quipped back with a deadpan expression.

He smiled. “How about you? Any real Alenkos left back on Earth?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s hard to date in the military. You’re always moving around, even without a war on.” She frowned. “Oh, jeez, I think my last real relationship was the guy who took me to prom.”

“Prom?”

“Fancy dance right before you graduate. You get all dressed up, dance with your friends, drink way too much peach schnapps, and typically have terrible sex.”

“Sounds like… fun?”

“It was, in its own way.” She smiled ruefully. “Though there’s a reason he was known as Lucas ‘Two Minutes’ Tremblay.”

He laughed. She leaned back on her hands, a smile still on her face.

“So… why’d you join the Alliance?” he asked after a minute.

She glanced over at him and thought before replying. “I was… I was sort of on a track in life where I’d either end up in prison, or the military. And the military paid better.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I think at one point I mentioned having some ‘rough goings’ before I joined the Alliance?”

He nodded. That sounded vaguely familiar.

“I was kind of a troubled kid. Really… bitter and angry and destructive.” She hesitated. “That’s the trick with not having parents. It’s hard to believe that anyone cares, when the people who are supposed to didn’t.” 

It almost sounded like she was talking about a whole other person. He supposed, in a way, she was. It was hard to picture Shepard as anything but the highly accomplished, disciplined person he saw before him. 

She shook her head. “But that’s all ancient history now. How about you? Why’d you join?”

“Didn’t really have a choice. It’s compulsory here,” he said, leaning all the way back on an elbow.

“Really?”

Garrus nodded. “Fifteen to thirty. Technically you’re not a full-fledged adult till you finish.”

She looked over at him. “You’re twenty-eight, right?” He nodded. “So you’re almost done.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” It was weird to even think about.

“So what’s next?” Shepard was looking at him closely. But it was hard to read her expression. 

He shook his head. “I haven’t considered what’s next really. There was a time that my father really wanted me to join C-Sec like he did. But that was before Mom…” He frowned and didn’t want to finish his sentence.

“What do  _ you _ want to do?” she asked quietly after a moment.

“I have… absolutely no clue.” He looked back at her. “What do you think I should do?”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what I do will affect you, shouldn’t you get a say in it?”

She blinked a few times. “Oh.” She thought for a while. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do. Whatever you choose should make you feel… purposeful.” She frowned suddenly. “Though try not to pick something that would have you travelling for months on end. You’re the only person I know on this planet, besides Solana.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiled. “Well, do you think your shoulder has recovered enough to lose?”

“I was just giving time for your ego to prepare.”

“Big talk from a man scared by birds,” she said, hopping up to her feet and jogging back to the guns.

“There was no bird, just you yelling about birds.” He picked back up his rifle and checked that it was ready to go.

“So you claim.” She held up the can. “You ready?”

He couldn’t tell if it was the warm glow from the sunset or something else, but her eyes positively sparkled. He found himself matching her smile.

Garrus readied his gun. “Fire.”

Shepard threw the can off into the valley. He saw it arc and then pulled his shot to the right, narrowly missing and letting the can sail down into the valley.

She cheered loudly. “Ohh! Look at it go!! Missed it by a mile!!” She pumped her fist through the air and cheered some more. “I’m Jane Shepard and this is my favorite spot on Palaven!” she yelled down into the valley, her voice echoing.

“It was windy,” he said, fighting back a smile at how happy she was.

“Oh, sure. Whatever you say.” Her grin was so wide it could light up the whole valley.

“Rematch next week?”

“Absolutely.”


	21. To Those Who Wait

“Morning,” Garrus said coming into the kitchen. Shepard looked up from the datapad she’d been flipping through without paying much attention to.

“Afternoon is more like it,” she replied before taking a bite from her toast.

He yawned and pulled down a mug from the cabinet. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“ _ Night Winds _ too scary for you?” She smiled as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Hardly.” They’d stayed up late to watch a vid that she guessed was supposed to be some sort of horror movie. But some things didn’t translate cross-species. She didn’t find the big jellyfish or Hanar, whatever they were called, to be particularly scary. The main asari character’s acting had been more frightening.

He pulled out a red bag from the cabinet and dumped two scoops of dark grounds into his cup. Then turned to set water to boil.

Her smile disappeared. Uh oh. This could be very bad. “Uh, hey, Garrus?” she asked, forcing a light tone to keep a clamp on rising anxiety. “Out of curiosity, what happens if a person eats the wrong chirality of food?”

He blinked a few times, obviously still waking up. “Uh, depends.”

She waited for him to elaborate. But when he didn’t, she asked rather desperately, “On?”

“On the person. It’s sort of a spectrum. Some people are fine. Their bodies just won’t be able to extract any, um… nutrition, that’s the word.”

She nodded, still looking at her book. “Uh huh. And the other end of the spectrum?”

“They can go into anaphylactic shock and die.”

_ This could be very bad. _ “And how long does it take for that to happen?” Her voice was rising rapidly in pitch.

He blinked again and then suddenly seemed to understand what she was asking. His head snapped towards her. “What’d you eat?”

“I had your coffee--I thought they’d rebranded!” she said in a rush.

“How much did you have?”

“A whole cup.”

“When??”

“Four hours ago?”

Suddenly, he relaxed. “Oh, you’re fine then.” 

Her panic was still going at fever pitch. “You’re sure?”

“If you were dextro-sensitive, you would have known before you finished the cup.” He let out a breath and chuckled. “Hell of a way to test that out though.” He turned back to his coffee.

She nodded, still feeling queasy, but it was psychosomatic. Probably. Hopefully. God, she could have died. She might still die. Maybe humans reacted slower. Oh, that’d be an embarrassing way to die. She could practically feel it churning in her gut.

He set his coffee on the other side of the counter from her, drawing her attention away from her toxic breakfast. He’d been watching her. “I’m the same way, never been levo-sensitive. See?” He picked up what was left of her toast and ate it in one go.

“Hey.”

He grimaced and swallowed. “Tastes weird, but it won’t kill me. Or you. I promise.” He smiled at her.

That did make her feel better. At least if she was going to die, he was going to die too. Her stomach stopped churning. She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” She looked down at her plate. “You ate my breakfast.”

“I’ll make you more.”

 

“Okay, so this one’s the gas, that one’s the break. Is there a clutch?” Shepard asked, looking down at the pedals by her feet.

“Given that I don’t know what a clutch is, I’m going to say no,” Garrus replied.

Shepard scooted her chair as far forward as it would go and she still had to sit forward in the seat to reach the pedals. He watched her struggle with a barely suppressed grin.

“Need any--”

“No. I got it,” she insisted, gripping the steering wheel again. “Okay. So. Check my mirrors, push to start.”

The car rumbled lightly to life and Garrus sat back in his seat. Nervousness pooled in his stomach. “Let’s just start with just going around the neighborhood. Something easy.”

“That sounds boring,” she said, fiddling with the music system. She found some club music and cranked it. “Here we go.”

The engine revved and a wicked grin split across her face. But the car didn’t move forward.

“Parking brake,” he reminded over the music.

“Hah!” Shepard found the lever and the car leapt forward. She slammed on the brake and they both rocked forward in their seats. “Sorry,” she said, turning the music down and glancing at him apologetically. “Mirrors, brake, push to start. And then… we… go.”

Maybe faster than he would have taken it, but not overtly reckless, they headed down the long driveway. Shepard even signalled before turning out onto the empty street.

Her apprehension died down before they even reached the end of the road. If only he could be so lucky. Confidently, she merged onto the larger street beyond.

“Not bad,” he said, forcing himself to relax his grip on the windowsill. 

“This isn’t too different from driving on Earth.” Instinctively, she glanced in her rear-view mirror. “And this thing handles a hell of a lot better than the Alliance’s ground vehicles, I can tell you that.”

“I should certainly hope so.”

“When I was fourteen, one of my buddies, Oliver, would go joyriding all the time. I only went with him once. Crashed a pick-up into a stop sign and sprained my wrist--took it as a sign that that wasn’t my calling.”

That didn’t make him feel any better.

She took a right turn, going approximately the way they went to the valley. As the city limits fell away, her speed increased as did his heart rate. That wicked grin of hers returned.

“Now  _ this _ is driving,” she said. “I forgot how fun this is!”

He watched the Palaven countryside roll by at an alarming rate. Had she been taking lessons from Sol? She turned the music back up and rolled the windows down. The wind whipped through his shirt, bubbling the fabric about erratically. The music seemed to resonate through the car.

Garrus glanced over at Shepard, a word of caution on his tongue. But he stopped. She had her hand out the window, banking through the breeze. Her head bobbed to the beat of the music as her hair blew wildly. The sun was shining on her face, highlighting each and every freckle. She looked so happy. 

She looked free.


	22. Silver Lining

Shepard’s eyes snapped open and she looked around the darkened living room. It was perfectly quiet and still. She sighed. The double edged sword of combat training was that sometimes it decided that there was  _ danger _ and that she needed to be awake  _ now _ when in reality, a raccoon outside her apartment had knocked over a trash can. The first few months in Palaven had been filled with moments like that. She thought she’d gotten past it. 

Except here she was, suddenly and inexplicably wide awake at--she checked her omnitool--twenty past two in the morning. Just perfect. Her eyes adjusting for the darkness, she sat up to check for anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps if she proved to herself that nothing was amiss, she’d be able to go back to sleep tonight. But that was when she noticed a strange light coming from upstairs. It was too soft to be a lamp or the lights, but it was definitely there.

Frowning, she stood up and walked up the stairs quietly. The bedroom was dark. Garrus was probably asleep as she rightfully should be. The glow was coming from the office.

She came around the corner and stopped, taking in the whole scene. The computer was still on, casting a cool glow across the desk and bookshelves behind it. And in front of it, with his head on the desk and surrounded by datapads, was Garrus dead asleep. His mouth was slightly ajar and she could see his back steadily rising and falling. The glow from the screen highlighted the symmetrical grooves and planes of his face. Huh, she’d never seen him asleep before. He looked peaceful. 

He’d been working a lot lately. He’d come back from work late and then do more work here. Sometimes he joined her downstairs as he continued to work, reading studiously on his omnitool and taking copious notes on a datapad. But more often than not, he’d be up in the office, typing away and muttering to himself. More than once she’d had to remind him to eat. Apparently, she needed to add ‘remind Garrus to sleep’ to that list. 

Precisely  _ what _ he was doing, she had no clue. Likely some project for the Hierarchy that he definitely didn’t have clearance to tell her about. But whatever it was, he was certainly dedicated. She felt like a slacker, watching him toil away while she whiled away hours reading or making her way through the extended vid series version of  _ Fleet and Flotilla _ . Solana was right, it really picked up after season five.

The position Garrus was sleeping in did not look comfortable, even for a human. Though how he got comfortable at all with his ...everything was beyond her. Turians didn’t seem built for comfort, or really anything besides battle. She could tell his neck was going to be killing him in the morning.

She turned and went into the bathroom. Not wanting to turn on a light, she fumbled around in the darkness for a few minutes. She returned to the office to silently set down a glass of water and some pain killers on the desk next to him. Now that she was close enough she could read what was on the screen. Perhaps she shouldn’t, but curiosity definitely got the best of her. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anyone to divulge government secrets to. Not anymore.

It seemed to be a sort of shipping manifest for a company called Terra Goods. She could see where product numbers were listed next to quantities. The bottom most box on the form was stretched out and still filling with several thousand sevens as some part of Garrus’ head pressed on the keyboard. Odd thing for a former sniper/not-engineer to be working on, she thought. Perhaps the Hierarchy didn’t believe in specialization. She turned off the monitor, plunging them both into darkness. He didn’t stir.

An idea occurred to her, but she wondered if it might be too… intrusive. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she watched him sleep for a moment. Whatever, she decided. She’d apologize in the morning if it bothered him. She headed back into the bedroom and pulled the blanket off the foot of the bed. She couldn’t figure out if it was the whole planet or just their house that got downright frigid at night now that Palaven’s excuse for winter had begun. And if she found it cold, Garrus definitely had to. He complained when it was overcast.

As delicately as she could, she draped the blanket over his shoulders and pulled it up to cover his neck and arms. He let out a small grunt and she whipped her hands away, as if she was caught in the middle of a diamond heist. But he didn’t wake up and she relaxed, letting out a breath she’d been holding.

If someone had told her even two months ago that she’d be tucking a blanket around a sleeping Garrus, she would have laughed in their face. It was strange this new turn of events between them. Strange how quickly a camaraderie had sprung up. She’d hardly ever had a relationship happen so easily, so naturally before. Despite their obvious differences, and even despite everything that they’d done before, it felt now like they understood each other almost innately. Cut from the same cloth, as Anderson would say. 

And even more strange than all of that was how much she appreciated it. Garrus was her ...friend. It was nice to know that she had a friend again. It’d been too long since she could say that she had one. Hm. Perhaps that wasn’t strange at all.

She nodded a little to herself and went back downstairs. Time to give sleep another try.

 

The computer had been calling for five straight hours. Really it was a full on miracle that no one had come into the office in the base that Garrus had ...requisitioned without notice. If he was found out, it would definitely be a note in his file at the very least. If he was lucky. And Garrus was never that lucky. With even the slightest sound outside the door, he’d snap to attention, a hand hovering over the button to disconnect. But hours passed and no one interrupted him.

He took a settling breath and opened his omnitool again. He might be waiting, but he could still continue on this behemoth of a research project he’d taken on and somehow talked the Hierarchy into as well. At times, he almost wanted to laugh. It felt like he was getting away with some sort of magnificent trick. And at other times, it felt like he was up to his cowl in doubt. Spirits, please let this work. 

It certainly couldn’t be said that he wasn’t working hard enough. More than once he’d fallen asleep at his desk. Though only once had he woken up to a blanket over his shoulders and painkillers thankfully next to him. Shepard had decidedly not mentioned it. He followed her lead, not wanting to embarrass her. But he thought about her gesture off and on. A sign of the change that had occurred between them. A change decidedly for the better.

The chiming on the computer suddenly stopped. Garrus looked up in time to see the screen go dark and then the face of Shepard’s Captain appear.

“Shep--” he started to say, then froze when he saw that it was not Shepard on the other end of the line.

“Captain Anderson, please do not disconnect,” Garrus said, quickly. He turned off his omnitool. “I don’t want to wait another five hours for you to decide to pick up again.”

Anderson hesitated, but nodded tersely. His eyes shifted to someone off screen. Obviously, he wasn’t alone. “Where’s Shepard?” It was technically a question, but it sounded like an accusation even without subvocals.

“I would imagine she’s at our house, unless my sister has invited her out for lunch again. It seems to be a weekly tradition for them.” Garrus had to fight back a smile at Anderson’s absolutely baffled expression.

“So she’s okay?”

“Yes.” Garrus gave Anderson the trademark turian stare down. He didn’t know much about the man outside of Shepard’s calls, but she seemed to trust him. And that was as good a guarantee as a human could get really, in Garrus’ mind. Still. There was business to be dealt with.

“Of course,” Garrus continued. “You’d already know that if you hadn’t terminated all communications with her, save notes passed through reporters she hates.” Anderson’s face dropped. “You must have had very good reasons to abandon her to a race and a planet entirely alien to her. Or rather, I certainly hope you did. Otherwise, you and I need to have a very different conversation.”

Anderson blinked as the threat came through loud and clear. But, admirably, he didn’t falter. “If you know she’s been cut off, then you already know our reasons.” He paused, then added, “And if anyone besides Khalisah had been willing to go to Palaven, I would have sent them. Believe me.” He looked mightily put out. That mollified Garrus a little. Precious little, but it was better than nothing.

“Even still… that’s not why I called you. Surely you’ve heard by now that a Palaven trading license has been granted for a company from your planet. Terra Goods?” 

Garrus had been working almost night and day on this little project of his. Researching how to make this happen, who to even contact, how to set up this sort of connection. It had taken more than a few persuasive conversations with just his leaders alone to start this process. But now it was well underway and it was time to act on the real reason he’d set this whole thing up.

“Yes,” Anderson replied.

“It’s very limited stock. I’m working with the vendor and the Hierarchy to expand it as quickly as possible. But there are many factors to consider.” So, so many factors. It was nothing short of a miracle that anything from Earth had made it through the Hierarchy’s stringent requirements. “Once we open, however, they will be making regular trips between our planets.” He looked expectantly at Anderson, but he didn’t seem to quite understand what Garrus was saying. “You should send something to Shepard, for her.”

Anderson looked surprised. “Why?”

Not bothering to hide how droll he felt, he replied, “This may come as a surprise, Captain, but Shepard misses her home.”

“No. I mean, why are  _ you _ asking for this?”

Garrus looked at him for a moment. “Contrary to what you might think or have experienced, we are not without compassion.” He paused. “And besides, she is my mate.”

Anderson gave him a mystified expression. “You… care for her?”

Garrus tilted his head to the side and gave him a toothy smile. “I thought us posing as a model of the cooperation possible between our species was the whole point of this arrangement, Captain.”

Anderson gave him a look that Garrus didn’t have time to parse. “I see.” He glanced off screen again. “We will… look into this.”

“Please do.”

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

“Of course.” There was a pause. He could tell that Anderson wanted to ask something more. “Something else on your mind?”

He frowned and didn’t say anything for a moment. “Is… Is she really okay?” Concern was written all over his face. Garrus felt a bit of sympathy for the man.

“Yes. To the best of my knowledge, she really is,” he assured him.

Anderson nodded. “Thank you.”


	23. Back of my Hand

“Turn left up here,” Garrus directed.

Shepard glanced over at him, but followed his directions. Normally when they went places, no matter who was driving, they were both clear on the destination. But this morning, Garrus had been decidedly cryptic. And it just got more concerning as he was obviously directing her towards the base. He would have told her if they had to do another interview… right? Right. One hundred percent. So where on earth--or Palaven--were they going?

He seemed to pick up on her trail of thoughts and she could see a smile ghost in his eyes. “Just trust me, Shepard. Right at the fork.”

She didn’t reply, just focused on driving. She relaxed as they drove past the base without even slowing and he directed her to a small collection of stores not too far down the road. The shopping center looked older and there weren’t very many cars or pedestrians nearby.

She parked and frowned up at the sign. Terra Goods. That was the name of that shipping manifest she’d seen Garrus working on. What was going on?

He quickly got out and waited for her by the door of the store. He was practically bouncing with anticipation; well, bouncing for Garrus. Which mainly meant he shifted his weight more than once. She approached slowly to tease him a little. However, he didn’t take the bait. Just opened the door for her and she stepped through.

Her mouth dropped open.

There was a store in Vancouver in the heart of the tourist district called London Calling. It was always decked out with Union Jacks and had a merry display of teapots and a cutout of the King in the window. It was mostly cheesy English souvenirs, but it always had Traynor’s favorite biscuits and some of the best lemon curd Shepard had ever had. This was the Palaven equivalent of that store.

The shelves were lined with all manner of objects from Earth. Bunting of different flags decorated the walls, interspersed with posters of landmarks and buildings. Several large video screens on the back wall were playing different movies and scenic vistas. A lyric-less version of the pop song that had been all the rage three summers ago was playing over small speakers in the corners.

“What do you think?” Garrus asked, coming around beside her and looking cautiously at her. 

She settled for nodding a lot since words were definitely not happening right now.

“Major Vakarian!” They turned to look as a skinny young turian boy came around the corner of the shelves. He was wearing a bright blue apron with the Terra Goods logo embroidered on the front. It was obviously a human piece of clothing as it fit him very poorly. “Welcome back! And you brought Shepard.”

“As promised. Shepard, this is Tyrius.”

Tyrius nodded in greeting. “Welcome to Terra Goods!” he said with a lot of enthusiasm. Shepard had never considered that a turian’s voice might do the same cracking that a human boy’s would. It was somehow even more odd sounding in dual tones. Suddenly, Tyrius grimaced. “Crap, the human greeting, right.” He held up his hand towards her. 

Shepard looked at him for a moment, unsure if he meant what she thought he meant, then gave him the high five. 

Tyrius looked astounded. “So it’s real?”

“...Sure, it’s real.” She nodded slowly and laughed a little.

“Excellent! I’ll remember next time, sir.” He nodded to Garrus, who nodded back. Tyrius also gave him a high five, or high three rather. Shepard had to bite her tongue to keep from bursting out laughing at the sight. 

“Let me know if I can help with anything. Though the Major probably knows the store better than I do right now,” he said as he walked away.

Cautiously, as if she moved too fast this fascinating place might disappear, she approached the first aisle. She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face.

“So… what is this place?” she asked, tearing her eyes from a display of plastic pink flamingos to look back at Garrus.

He seemed worried somehow. “I arranged for a company from Earth to be granted a trading license. So they’ve opened a store here selling all the best goods of Earth. At least that’s what they promised.” He looked around and frowned at a pair of salt and pepper shakers shaped like corgis. “The hope is to establish more trade partnerships between Earth and Palaven, but this is the start.”

“This…” It dawned on her. “This was your big project,” she said in wonder. She looked around again, suddenly seeing Garrus’ meticulous touches everywhere she looked. “You did all this?”

His head bobbed in a quick nod. “It wasn’t just me, but I… spearheaded it, I guess you could say.” He looked around for a moment, then his eyes shifted back to her. His worry even more apparent. “Do you… like it?”

She smiled up at him. “Garrus, how could I not?” He relaxed noticeably. She reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. “Thank you.”

He squeezed back and looked back out over the store. She could see a hint of pride now in his face.

“So show me what you’ve done,” she said. 

He led her down the first aisle. It was a little bit odd to see her world piecemealed and sold back to her. Most every object had a small card explaining its use and several explanations were patently wrong. Garden gnomes didn’t ‘stand guard of human households to protect them from evil spirits... at least not anymore. A soccer ball wasn’t ‘a symbol of the global tournament for domination between nations’. Well, maybe that one was right. 

“So what does this one do?” Garrus asked, standing in front of a small blue keyboard.

“It’s a keyboard, like an electric piano. See?” She turned it on and played a scale. “Ooh, this one has sound effects.” She hit another button and then played the only song she knew, Chopsticks, in dog barks. 

Garrus looked amazed. “We have to get this.”

She laughed. “Sure.”

There were posters nearby of the strangest selection of landmarks, Victoria Falls and the Nashville skyline? Shepard grinned at the kitten hanging from a branch motivational poster. Vega had once given her an exact copy of that poster. She’d hung it above the pull up bar on the  _ Somme _ .

At the back side of the store were books that didn’t seem to be arranged in any sort of order at all. Though it was probably difficult to alphabetize when you couldn’t read the titles. A kiosk near the shelves claimed to have translations of a few of the titles. Garrus browsed through that as Shepard spent a long time pouring over the shelves. There were books from all over Earth, many of which even she couldn’t read as the titles weren’t in English.

She gasped and grabbed a book off the shelf.

“What’s that one?” Garrus asked, looking over at her.

She ran a hand over the cover in wonder. It was even the same edition she’d had. “ _ Anne of Green Gables _ ,” she said. She held the book close. “Oh, I loved this book as a kid.”

“What’s it about?”

“A girl named Anne. She’s a red haired orphan in Canada, so of course I liked her.” She smiled up at him. “It’s  _ so _ good.”

“Let’s get it then.” He looked over at the messy shelves. “Have you seen the collection of vids we have?”

She let him lead her down the furthest aisle to another kiosk. There weren’t many titles. And some of them were very old movies,  _ Le Passion de Jeanne d’Arc _ and  _ Toy Story _ .

“Oh, wait, wait. Stop, go back up,” she said. He scrolled further back up the list. “Yes! They have all eighteen, buy that one.”

“ _ Star Wars _ ?”

“Mhmm. You can see what  _ we _ thought aliens looked like.”

He chuckled and selected it for purchase. He proudly showed off the rest of the store to her and they wound up gathering a strange hodge-podge of items, forming a rather large pile on the front counter for check out.

“Now what does this do?” Tyrius asked, holding up a teddy bear.

“He doesn’t do anything. He’s just soft and nice to hold,” Shepard explained.

The two turians seemed confused, but didn’t press for further explanation. 

“You should come back next month, we’ll have the rest of our stock by then.”

“What do you have coming?” Shepard asked Garrus.

“I let Terra make stock choices,” he replied. “I’m just here to navigate the paperwork.”

Tyrius opened up his omnitool and pulled up a list. “Let’s see… violins, baseball mitts, Kabuki masks, turian translations of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ ,  _ Romance of the Three Kingdoms _ ,  _ Half of a Yellow Sun _ , and  _ Little Women _ , something called a rain stick? Oh, and another kiosk with music for download.”

It took some finagling to fit all their purchases in the back of the car. Garrus wound up holding the teddy bear; he eyed him suspiciously as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“We have to go back next month,” Shepard said as she drove down the road. “This is all amazing, and I love it so much. But having music again will be…” She nodded, there wasn’t really a word to describe how she felt. “I miss real music.”

He chuckled. “Real music?” 

“You may have your fancy guns and magic healing gel, but Earth has the real music.”

“I suppose I understand. I must have listened to  _ Johnny B. Goode _ hundreds of times before I went to basic.”

She blinked and looked over at him. Did he say what she thought he said? “What?”

“It’s a good song, don’t get me wrong. But I mostly played it to piss off my Dad. It worked, by the way.”

“No, I mean. How do you know about  _ Johnny B. Goode _ ?” she asked.

“It was on that gold sound disk Earth sent out.”

That somehow sounded familiar. Like she’d heard something about that in school. “Wait… are you talking about Voyager?”

“Yeah, that’s it. The satellite. A salarian ship picked it up outside the Annos Basin… oh, about fifteen years ago? I’m sure it was very exciting from a scientific perspective, but most I remember is the music. Here, I think I still have it.” He opened his omnitool and typed on it for a moment. And then the car speakers were suddenly filled with the iconic electric guitar riff. 

_ Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans _

_ Way back up in the woods among the evergreens _

Shepard’s mouth dropped open as the song played. 

_ There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood _

_ Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode _

When she looked up, Garrus was smiling at her. “Sounds like rebellion,” he said.

She smiled back. “Sounds like home.” 

 

“Wait, how did Luke get to the rebel base so fast?” Garrus asked, frowning at the screen. “I thought Rey took the Falcon.”

They’d been doing nothing in the evenings for the past week but watching this vid series from Earth that Shepard insisted he had to watch. He’d tried to be reserved and cool at the start. But now they were eight vids in and he was absolutely hooked. He really liked that Han character.

Shepard smiled at him slyly from where she sat next to him. “Just watch. It’s really cool.” It made him feel better that she liked these vids as much as he did, she’d just seen them all before. 

“No wonder Earth never bothered with mass effect weapons,” he said, sitting back on the couch and watching the scene unfold. “Too busy trying to invent lightsabers.”

Shepard nodded and stretched out her legs.

It was the end of the work week. Before all this, he had a very set routine. He would have joined Nihlus and some friends for drinks, have some fun, maybe flirt with someone at the bar. But now Nihlus was off planet and, while unconventional, he had a mate. Even still, he had to admit that staying in and watching vids with Shepard was more fun than he ever remembered the bar being.

“Spirits above.  _ What _ are you two doing?” Was that ...Sol?

They both turned to look towards the front door and standing in their entry way was, indeed, Sol. Her hands were on her hips and she looked decidedly annoyed.

“H--how did you get in here?” he asked.

“Shepard gave me the code last week.”

He turned back to look at Shepard, who looked a little embarrassed. 

“She asked! I didn’t want to be rude,” Shepard shrugged, smiling apologetically.

“Never be afraid to be rude to family, first rule of being a Vakarian.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Sol cut back in. “ _ What _ are you doing??”

“We’re watching  _ The Last Jedi _ ,” Shepard said, pausing the vid right as Kylo Ren was ordering every gun to fire on Luke. How he was going to walk away from that, Garrus had no clue.

Sol let out an annoyed rumble. “You’re both far too young to stay in on a night like tonight and watch vids like some old bonded couple.”

“We are a bonded couple,” Shepard and Garrus said at the same time. They grinned at each other and high four’d, as they’d taken to calling it. 

Sol shook her head. “Get your shoes. You’re going out with me.” Her tone left little room for argument, but as her younger brother it was his spirits-given right to do so anyway.

He groaned. “I don’t want to go clubbing with your friends.” The last time Sol had dragged him along to one of these outings of hers, all of her friends called him Little Garrus and kept trying to set him up with any girl that walked past. It was abhorrent, to say the least.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Shepard?” Sol appealed.

“I know what clubbing is on Earth, but what does that mean here on Palaven?” 

“You go to a dark building that probably used to be a fish processing plant, they play terrible music way too loudly, overcharge you for drinks, and you dance next to smelly strangers,” Garrus said quickly.

“And it’s so much fun!” Sol finished.

“Okay, so about the same thing.” Shepard nodded a little. “See, the thing is, Solana, I don’t like to dance.”

“So then don’t dance! Just drink! That’s what Garrus does.”

“I don’t  _ just _ drink,” he insisted.

“I don’t really have clubbing clothes,” Shepard replied.

“What you’re wearing is fine.”

Shepard appeared to be thinking it over. She looked at him. “Do you mind?”

He stifled a groan. “Will Cyntha be there?” he asked, forcibly keeping at bay poor memories of the last time he went clubbing without Sol. Grabby hands and far, far too many pheromones to breathe properly.

“Spirits, I hope not,” Sol replied. “If she is, we’ll leave and go somewhere else. I promise.”

He looked back at Shepard. Her face was mostly neutral, but he could see a glimmer of excitement. He certainly didn’t want to be the one to squash that. “I guess we’re going out.”

Sol cheered as Shepard grinned. 


	24. Like No One's Watching

Shepard followed Solana down the busy street, Garrus just a few steps behind her. She watched an asari whisper to her friend and point at her as they passed by. So maybe Solana was exaggerating about her black tank and jeans being acceptable clothes. Not a strong start.

They were definitely passing by a line as they approached the entrance of this club and they were definitely getting dirty looks as they did so. 

“Uh, the end of the line was--” Garrus started, obviously thinking the same thing she was.

“Follow my lead,” Solana replied. She followed the line around a corner into a wide alley. The front door of the club was roped off and a krogan in black armor was standing by the door. Shepard suddenly realized that maybe the pictures she’d seen didn’t accurately portray just how large krogan were. Brick shithouse was too small a term.

Solana stopped off at the opposite side of the alley from the door. “Wait here. Reg and I go way back,” she said, before sauntering over towards the bouncer. The people at the front of the line were actively glaring at Solana as she chatted with him.

“Is there anyone that Solana isn’t very good friends with?” Shepard asked Garrus, watching her work her magic.

“You would think so,” Garrus replied dryly. “But I’ve yet to find them.”

Solana smiled at the bouncer and then waved them over. Shepard deliberately didn’t look at the frustrated people still in line.

“So… human,” the krogan said when they drew near. “You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”

“Well, you’re bigger than I thought you’d be so I guess we’re both disappointed,” Shepard replied without thinking. Crap. Sassing the bouncer rarely ever worked out well.

A wide grin spread across his toad-like face and a gravelly chuckle shook his shoulders. “Have fun,” he said, opening the door.

“Thanks, Reg.” Solana headed inside. “Say hi to your daughter for me.”

Shepard walked into the club. There was a short dark hallway, which quickly opened into a large room. It was warm in here. The walls were dark and the floor lit up. Special lights flickered and waved across the space in bright colors, highlighting the mob of dancers in the center of the room. The music wasn’t as loud as other clubs she’d been to, but it seemed to thrum through the floor and resonate up her spine in a way she’d never felt before.

Solana pointed over to the far wall where a long bar stretched the entire length of the room with about five bartenders running like mad men behind the counter. She waved to the two of them and then sauntered off in the other direction. Shepard looked up at Garrus.

“She’ll come find us later,” he said over the music.

They headed over to the bar and claimed a section of open bartop. It came up higher on Shepard than she was used to. 

A bartender almost immediately appeared in front of them and frowned at her. “Dextro or levo?” she asked.

“Levo,” Shepard replied.

She reached under the bar and pulled out a marker. Without asking, she grabbed Shepard’s hand and quickly scribbled out ‘levo’ in turian on the back of her hand.

“What’ll it be?”

Shepard had no clue what to order. Garrus looked at her and she shook her head and shrugged. He leaned towards the bartender and ordered something that her translator missed. The bartender ducked away and returned a moment later with two small glasses. She set them down in front of Garrus and he passed her his credit chit.

“This one’s for you.” Garrus pushed the glass filled with the purple liquid towards her and picked up the green one. “And this one’s for me.”

Shepard picked up hers and looked at it for a moment. It was a little larger than a regular shot glass. “Why’s it purple?” she asked, sniffing it cautiously. Strangely, it didn’t smell like booze. Something bright, manufactured, and fruity met her nose.

“‘Cause Sol says the pink stuff tastes like dirt.”

“Fair enough.” She held out her glass towards him. He looked a little confused but then did the same. “To One Hundred Percent.”

He smiled and nodded. She clinked her glass with his, tapped it to the bartop, and then threw the shot back. It hit the exact wrong spot at the back of her throat. She sputtered and coughed.

“You good?” he asked, setting down his empty glass.

She hit her chest with her fist and blinked to dispel the tears that had suddenly formed. “Yeah,” she croaked. “Just… out of practice.” She shook her head. “Haven’t had a drink since I’ve been on Palaven.”

“Wait, really?”

She nodded. “Yeah, there’s just something about not trusting a single person on the entire planet that makes you unwilling to lower your inhibitions,” she quipped with a grin.

The bartender appeared to clear their glasses. “Another round?”

Garrus shook his head. “Fire brandy, double.”

The bartender looked to Shepard. “Uh… the most popular levo drink you have.” She could have sworn she saw the bartender chuckle as she walked away. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

“So is this really like clubbing on Earth?” he asked.

“Um,” Shepard said. She turned behind them to survey the mass of writhing bodies. The skin colors were all wrong, as was the height of most of the crowd, but otherwise it would be indistinguishable. “Subtract some fringe and cowls, add in more hair, and yeah, pretty much.”

Their drinks appeared in front of them as the bartender walked past again. Garrus’ looked like a brandy. Maybe a touch more orange, but in the neighborhood. Hers, however, was practically a work of art, translucent liquid in a gradient from navy to light purple. She picked it up to look at it closer, some sort of stemmed fruit bobbed at the bottom of the glass.

“Okay, this is cool,” she said, admiring the way the glow from the bar reflected in the gradient. “Cheers.” She took a long sip and tried to parse what she was tasting. It was definitely sweet, but she didn’t taste any alcohol. It was more like a fruit punch than anything else. She also didn’t feel the usual bloom of sudden warmth that she always got when drinking. “You sure there’s liquor in here?” she asked Garrus.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea what that is,” he said, pointing to her glass. Eh, maybe this was a good thing. It was already warm enough in here without her adding a booze blush on top of it.

“So do you not like clubbing?” she asked him, taking another sip.

“It has its ...charms,” he said, reluctantly. She chuckled. “It’s more fun when you come with people you like… people you know.”

She nodded, watching a turian couple out on the dance floor. His hands were stroking her waist while hers were moving in very deliberate motions just under his fringe as they swayed to the music. She knew that those were weak spots from her training with the Alliance, but she’d never realized that they were probably also erogenous zones too. Weird.

She turned back to face the bar and finished her glass. The fruit at the bottom tasted like pineapple.

She grinned at Garrus. “You want to see my party trick?” she asked, holding up the stem.

He looked confused, but intrigued. “Sure.”

“Now it’s been a while, so this might take me a minute,” she cautioned and then popped the stem into her mouth. While she was definitely out of practice doing shots, there were somethings that were impossible to forget. And a minute later, she pulled out the knotted stem. “Tada.”

He looked shocked. “Did you just tie that with your teeth?” he asked.

“More tongue than teeth, but yes. I used to be a lot faster at it, though Traynor would always win if we raced.” She chuckled. The first time Traynor showed off that little talent Joker looked like he was about to pass out under the table. And then she went home with the medic Vega had been flirting with all night.

“Can all humans do that?”

She shook her head. “Just us talented few.” She dropped the stem into her empty glass.

Garrus laughed a little. “That’s very impressive,” he said as she waved down the bartender for another one of whatever she’d just had.

“On Earth, being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue is supposed to be a sign that you’re a good kisser.” She rested her elbows on the bartop and picked up her new drink. “So what’s your party trick?”

He took a sip of his brandy and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say, I don’t have one.”

“That’s disappointing. I can teach you mine, if you want.”

Before he could reply, a hand smoothed up the back of Garrus’ carapace and a female turian leaned against the bar on his other side.

“Hey there,” she drawled, looking him up and down. 

Shepard raised her eyebrows and turned away. She snagged a straw from behind the bar and finished her new drink in a long pull. She should learn how to make these. Damn, they were delicious. She flagged down the bartender to order two more so she didn’t have to wait.

When she looked back, the female turian was walking away and didn’t look too pleased.

“Ha. Ha. You got hit on,” Shepard said in a sing-song tone. 

He gave her a nonplussed look. “It’s still better than the last time I went clubbing. At least she took ‘no’ for an answer.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows as she drank from one of her new glasses. “Spill, Vakarian.”

He shook his head. “There’s not much to spill. Just a girl who wouldn’t leave me alone. Nihlus had to sneak me out through the loading dock.”

She laughed. “Garrus Vakarian: soldier, husband, ladies’ man.”

At that he laughed too. “No, that’d be Nihlus. He never had trouble with the girls.”

She frowned at him. “You say that like you didn’t  _ just _ have someone come up and start flirting with you apropos of nothing.”

“Alright, I do okay, till I actually like someone. Then it’s just all nerves and tripping over my words. And by that point she’s usually lost interest.”

She hummed a little, trying to picture that Garrus. She’d seen him a lot of different ways over the months, but she was pretty sure she’d never seen him well and truly flustered. Some part of her really wanted to.

“Yeah, I’m the same.” She finished her first drink and picked up the second. “It’s all fun and games. Then I say the wrong thing, or come on too strong, or, fuck, once I just told him my name and he’s off running for the hills.”

“Your  _ name _ ?”

“It was right after Mars.” She rolled her eyes and finished her drink in one go. “Guess he was, I don’t know, intimidated? Human men can be weird about that kind of stuff.” 

Okay, it was really warm in here. She pulled her hair up with one hand and fished a hair tie out of her pocket.

Garrus was looking down at his almost empty glass. “That’s so stup--” he stopped when he looked over at her.

“What?” she asked, straightening her ponytail. Much better.

He blinked and shook his head, looking away. “Nothing, just… never seen your hair like that.”

“I don’t normally keep it this long. But I keep forgetting to cut it.” She ordered another one of her drinks and then looked back at him. He looked away quickly and then finished his glass, pushing it forward on the bar.

“What were you saying?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “Oh… just that… He should have been honored to… to have the attentions of a… a soldier of your caliber.”

She flashed him a grin. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed a little and looked away again. Her drink arrived and she drank it quickly. Maybe it was the heat, but she was really thirsty.

“So what’s his name?” a new voice asked to her left. She turned and there was a male turian with intricate white colony markings at her elbow. 

“Eh?” she replied. Wow, very eloquent.

He stepped closer and rested an elbow on the bar. “The guy who broke your heart, what’s his name?” He nodded down to her empty glasses. “No one drinks five Thessian Sunsets without a damn good reason,” he purred.

“Uh, no. No name. No guy. Just having fun.” She tried to laugh and it came out weird.

His eyes lit up. “I like your style. What’s  _ your _ name then?” The back of a talon ran down her bare arm. _ Oh _ . This was a come on, she suddenly realized.

“Um,” she started, feeling a little worried. How should she tell this guy to buzz off without being unnecessarily rude? It was hard enough with human guys, she had no clue what would work for a turian. She should have paid more attention to what happened with Garrus earlier.

Suddenly, thankfully, she felt Garrus’ hand slide across her waist and he pulled her closer to him. He fixed her new friend with a glare and she felt a slight rumble echo through his chest where it met her back. Goosebumps broke out over her arms. The other turian stepped back and held up his hands in surrender. He gave them a nod and then walked away.

Garrus waited till he was well and truly gone before removing his hand. “Ha. Ha. You got hit on,” he said, sounding very smug. 

Where he’d touched her still felt warm, strangely enough. Pushing that aside, she waved for the bartender to bring her another drink. 

“I’m… definitely not drunk enough to be propositioned by aliens.”

“Shepard, I hate to tell you, but you’re the alien here.”

She smiled wryly. “Then I’m not drunk enough to be propositioned by xenophiles.”

Another Thessian Sunset hit the bartop in front of her and the bartender cleared away her empty glasses. She swirled the drink and took a slow sip, thoughtfully appreciating the drink.

“Thanks for uh…” She jerked a chin back the way the other turian had left. “I didn’t know what to say.”

He met her gaze. “Don’t worry about it.”

When had her heart started beating so fast?

“ _ There _ you two are,” Solana said, coming up behind them. “Been looking for you all over.”

“Hey!” Shepard said a little more enthusiastically than she intended. But whatever, Solana was fun. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” she said, laughing a little. “Hey, go easy on those Thessian Sunsets. They will mess you up.”

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve been drinking these all night and I don’t feel a thing.”

Solana gave her a concerned look. “How many have you had?”

“Um…” Shepard stopped to think. Huh, she couldn’t quite remember. She looked back at the bar, but her glasses had been cleared away. Damn. “I don’t know… Five?”

“I think that’s six,” Garrus said, gesturing to the glass in her hand. She forgot she still had this one, perfect!

“I’ve never once met an asari who could drink more than four of those and walk out of the club on her own accord,” Solana said as she took the glass out of Shepard’s hand.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asari.” Shepard stood up straighter and held out her hand. “I’m Commander Fucking Shepard. And I would like my drink back. Please, Sol.”

Garrus chuckled and turned to his sister. “You heard her,” he said with a smile.

Sol looked unconvinced, but gave Shepard back her drink. “You’re going to be carrying her home,” she warned Garrus.

“I don’t think so. Like she said, she’s Commander Fucking Shepard.”

“OoRAH.” And Shepard shot back the rest of her glass. 

Sol shook her head and laughed. “Watch this,” she said to Garrus. “Hey Shepard, do you want to dance?”

Shepard’s eyes widened. That sounded like so much fun! “Yes! Yes, let’s dance!”

“Wait, you said you didn’t like to dance,” Garrus tried to reason.

“I don’t! I’m terrible! Let’s go!”

 

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Sol said. Garrus watched her follow after the suddenly  _ very _ boisterous Shepard onto the dance floor.

Her cheeks had been turning steadily more and more pink the longer they spent at the bar. Perhaps Garrus should have stopped her, or figured out what she was drinking. Eh, she was with friends. Between Sol and him they could easily keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t get into trouble or hurt herself.

The latter of the two seemed more likely as Shepard found a space and started… well… in the vaguest sense, dancing. What she lacked in rhythm and poise and coordination, she certainly made up for in raw enthusiasm. Even still she was flat out terrible. But it looked like she was having the time of her life.

Shepard noticed him watching and waved at him to join them. He shook his head so she waved again, more forcefully this time. Laughing a little, he got to his feet and joined them out on the floor.

“I’m not sure I want to be associated with you right now,” he said, finding his rhythm next to her.

“Less hands, Shepard, more hips,” Sol shouted to be heard over the music. Shepard nodded and stopped doing the weird circle motion with her arms. “Close your eyes and just feel the music.” She did as Sol suggested.

He could see her upper body relax and while occasionally she was still off-beat, she swayed to the music. She still wasn’t good, per se, but she wasn’t a side attraction now. The song continued on and steadily Shepard lost herself in the thrumming beats. When Garrus looked up, Sol had disappeared amongst the mass. 

The crush of the crowd pushed him closer towards Shepard. Small fine hairs at the edge of her scalp were curling up and moisture beaded along her forehead, even though they were surrounded he could easily pick out her scent above all the others. With her eyes still closed, she ran her hand down her neck and gave her hips a swish.  _ Spirits _ . Garrus had to remind himself to stop staring at her. It was just the music and the drinks, he reasoned. That’s all it was. Clubs were tricky; masters of atmosphere that made it hard to discern the truth. 

As the song drew to a close, Shepard’s eyes opened again. She blinked a few times and swayed where she stood in a not-dancing way.

“Whoa,” she mumbled. She grabbed at his arm and he caught her elbow.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I think--” A new louder song started up and he missed what she said. “--Air--” 

“What?” He leaned down nearer to her mouth to try and hear her, getting a stronger whiff of her oddly attractive scent--tangy salt and soft floral soap. 

“--Go outside?” was all he caught, but it was enough. Still holding her elbow, he guided her to the edge of the dancefloor and towards the exit. She patted his arm when they reached the hallway and made her way to the door on her own.

“Damn, those asari don’t fuck around--” Shepard mumbled. Then she tripped over the door jam. She very narrowly avoided falling flat onto the sidewalk only because Garrus grabbed her arm again and stopped her fall. She was snickering as he helped her stand.

Reg the bouncer laughed as he watched Garrus hold her upright. “Did you have fun, human?”

Shepard nodded. “Uh-huh,” she managed, finding her feet again. Garrus still kept a hold of her till they reached the street again.

“Maybe we should sit down,” he suggested gently, gesturing towards a bench.

Shepard shook her head. “No. I wanna walk! I can… do it.” And she headed down the sidewalk on her own, slowly drifting side to side and occasionally stumbling. It wasn’t difficult to keep up with her, she wasn’t moving very fast. She kept bumping into him as her path wobbled down the lane. Honestly, the whole situation was hilarious.

“My head feels all… round,” she said, sagely, after a few minutes.

“Your head is round.”

“ _ Your _ head is round.” She stopped and pointed up at him. “Mmmmm--tall… and pointy.” She nodded matter-of-factly and continued on her way.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, dryly. He didn’t bother hiding his smile.

“Whatever, poindexter.” Whatever that word meant, it must have been funny as she laughed and then stopped all of sudden. She looked up at a street light for a few minutes. Her eyes were wide and even more of those fine hairs had escaped whatever it was that she’d done to her hair. 

“...Shepard?”

“ _Is the real life?”_ she sang quietly, then belted the next line at the top of her lungs. “ _Is this_ _just fantasy_?”

“Shh, Shepard.” It was mostly reflex. It wasn’t like there weren’t other people around being as loud as she was. And there certainly weren’t neighbors to worry about.

“ _I’m just a poor boy,_ ” she continued, paying him no mind. She grabbed the streetlamp with one hand and spun around it. “ _I need no sympathy…”_ She seemed to have forgotten the next few words as she trailed off mumbling things his translator didn’t bother with.

“Do you always sing when you’re drunk?” he asked amusedly, watching her spin. He didn’t really expect an answer.

“ _Too late, my time has come…_ ” She stopped and stood swaying for a moment. He thought that maybe that was the end of the performance. “ _Goodbye everybody!_ ” Suddenly, she ran out into the empty street, waving her arms and making a few surprisingly dextrous leaps.

“Wait, come back here!” He ran after her.

“ _I've got to go!_ ” It was surprisingly difficult to predict her serpentine movement across the pavement. Didn’t matter that he was faster, she kept eluding him and singing the whole time. “ _Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth._ ” Finally, he caught her and picked her up, one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back _._ “ _Mama_ \--Mmm, put me down.” She arched her back to try and wriggle free.

“No, you’ll just run out into the street again.” He carried her back to safety. Guess Sol was right after all, he realized amusedly.

She sighed and her head flopped down to rest against his cowl. “ _I don't want to die,”_ she continued in a low voice. “ _I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all…_ ”

He frowned down at her. “What is this song?”

“Izz the best song in the hisstory of the universe,” she informed him, sounding oddly proper in her tone despite her relaxed pronunciation. She frowned and kicked her legs. “I don’ wanna wear my shoes anymore.” 

“You can take your shoes off when we get home,” he said, walking past the club towards where they’d parked. She huffed a breath and was quiet for a while.

“Garrus?” she asked.

“Yes, Shepard.”

“‘M sorry I gottso drunk… Normally I’m good. At drinking. The best! At drinking. ‘M sorry.”

He smiled down at her. “It’s quite alright. Now we know, asari liquor should be approached with caution.”

“Why does space make things change?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

She stared up at him. “You have your mother’s eyes,” she said quietly.

“I do.”

“They’re beautiful… same color as a winter sky.”

He felt his neck grow unexpectedly warm all of a sudden. “Well, now we  _ know _ you’re drunk,” he deflected. 

She laughed and relaxed back against him. When they reached it, he helped her into the car. Sending a quick note off to Sol about where they’d gone, he was happy to put the club in the rearview mirror. Shepard was quiet for most of the drive, resting her forehead against the window and watching the city pass by them. She perked up as they reached the house. 

“Pull over, pull over,” she said, pulling on the handle to the door as he slowed down in the driveway.

“What are you--” Garrus looked over and she was already out the door and pulling her shoes off, obviously intending to wade into the fountain in their front yard. “Shepard, no!”

“Shepard, yes!” She tossed off the second shoe and was in the water by the time he’d gotten out of the car.

“Get out of there,” he called to her as she waded further in. The water came up to about her knees.

“No! It’s beautiful. Come see.” She waved vehemently at him. “ _Comme ci,_ _comme ça_.”

Her voice sounded a little different than usual through his translator and what she’d said made very little sense. She was still waving him over. 

He sighed and took off his boots. “This is ridiculous,” he said, wading slowly into the cold water.

She cheered. “ _ Mieux vaut être fous à plusieurs que sage seul _ _. _ ” 

“I’m not sure I agree with that.” 

She jumped through the water closer to him and grabbed his hand to pull him back to where she’d been standing. “ _ Regardes, regardes _ .” She pointed up at the night sky and then down at the water. “ _ Tant de lunes _ .” The moons and stars were reflected in the waving water. It looked like they were standing in a second sky. “ _ Belle, _ ” she whispered.

He looked over at her. Her eyes were wide and bright, a slight flush still on her cheeks. “Yeah…” When she looked back at him, he felt his chest get warm.

“ _ La nuit tous les chats sont gris, _ ” she said sweetly, as if it meant something.

He chuckled. “You’re going to be so miserable in the morning.”

“ _ Oui _ .” She nodded and surprisingly, wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his chest as they looked at the view. After a moment, he put his arm around her shoulders. “ _ Mais je suis  _ _ heureuse  _ _ maintenant _ .”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of Shepard's French:
> 
> Comme ci, comme ça - So, so. Pronounced 'come see, come sah'
> 
> Mieux vaut être fous à plusieurs que sage seul - It is better to be foolish with everyone than wise alone
> 
> Regardes, regardes. Tant de lunes. Belle. - Look, look. So many moons. Beautiful.
> 
> La nuit tous les chats sont gris - At night, all cats are grey
> 
> Oui. Mais je suis heureuse maintenant - Yes. But I am happy now.


	25. Worth a Thousand

Shepard clutched the awkwardly wide book to her chest and hit the button for the third floor on the elevator. Why was she nervous? There was no reason to be nervous. Which didn’t make her any less nervous. If anything, it made her more. 

She shuffled to the back as a few people got on at the second floor. A small child stared at her with mouth agape. He waved good-bye to her as she stepped off the elevator and headed for the room at the end of the hall.

One more deep breath, she could do this, and then she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a soft voice said on the other side.

Shepard opened the door and ducked her head in the room. “Hi Galena,” she said, smiling a little.

Galena looked up from her omnitool as she was sitting up in her bed. A smile spread across her face. “Shepard. What a surprise.”

Shepard had been coming to lunch in Galena’s room for several weeks now. But always with Sol. This was Shepard’s first solo mission. And something deep inside told her she was going to screw this up.

“Is now a good time? I can come back,” Shepard said, stepping a little into the room.

Galena closed her tool and turned off the vid screen. “Now’s just fine, come in.” The window shades were half-closed to block out the afternoon sun. “Just watching some vids. Sol lent me the ninth season of  _ Fleet and Flotilla _ .”

“Oh, that’s a good one.” Shepard pulled the book behind her and went to stand next to her bed.

“The Admirals have just told Shalei that she can’t marry Bellicus and they won’t let her leave the Flotilla.”

“Just wait till Bellicus finds out,” she replied with a grin. “I think that’s my favorite episode of the whole series so far.”

“Even more than when Bellicus had to choose his platoon over Shalei for the good of the Hierarchy?”

Shepard thought for a moment and then nodded.

“I look forward to it then.” Galena smiled back. “Well, I imagine you didn’t come by just to chat about vids.”

Shepard shook her head. “No, I didn’t. Not that I mind at all--” she quickly amended. Crap. Pull it together, Shepard. “Uh. But I, um… I brought you something.” She pulled the book out from behind her back and handed it to Galena. “I don’t know if Garrus has told you, but a store opened here on Palaven selling goods from Earth. He was the mastermind behind that. Anyway, I saw that they got in books about art and I thought of you.”

It was a very wide book filled with large glossy photos of art spanning the centuries, from prehistoric cave drawings to the experimental installations popular today. Galena carefully opened it and slowly turned the pages, pouring over each image.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I wrote in it,” Shepard added. “I thought that you might want translations of the titles.”

“Shepard…” Galena said, softly. She looked up at her. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Shepard smiled, a knot of worry loosening in her gut. “You’re welcome--I’m glad you like it.”

She turned another page, carefully studying an ancient Egyptian relief for a moment. “This is all from Earth? There’s so much, so many styles.”

“Yes, though this barely scratches the surface of art from Earth. Terra Goods had other books I’d be happy to get for you--photography, sculpture--I just thought paintings would be a good starter.”

She looked up at her. “Do you have a favorite piece?”

“I do, yeah.” Shepard leaned a little closer and flipped further into the book, past the renaissance and into the impressionists. “This one, I think… I remember it the most anyway.”

Galena looked closely at the full page picture of  _ A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte _ .

“The picture doesn’t really do it justice. It’s huge. Takes up a whole wall in the museum and it looks almost like the people could just walk straight out. But then you get close and it’s all painted by individual dots. It’s called pointillism.”

Galena nodded thoughtfully. “Why this piece in particular?”

“Well,” Shepard thought back to the time she saw it when it travelled through Vancouver. “It makes an impression to be sure. I liked that… it was almost like two paintings in one. You could stand really close and see all of the masterful craftsmanship. But you didn’t see what it was all for unless you stepped back and looked at the whole thing.”

She smiled. “This is… incredible. How did you know I appreciate art?”

“Garrus told me,” Shepard offered. “He took me to the art museum my first month here. Said you used to bring him as a kid.”

“Can’t believe he remembers that,” she said, softly. 

“He said it was his favorite of the museums.”

She smiled fondly. “When he was a boy, he very desperately wanted to be a painter. Obviously that didn’t quite work out. But I still have a few of his masterpieces back at home.”

Shepard couldn’t help but smile too. She could almost see a young Garrus painfully laboring over a canvas, focusing intently on getting the brushstrokes just right. 

“You said he was the one who started this store?” Galena’s voice brought her back to reality.

Shepard nodded. “He arranged it all with the Hierarchy and with the Alliance, which I can’t imagine was easy.”

“When Garrus puts his mind to something, there’s very little that can stand in his way.” She turned the page and admired Van Gogh’s  _ Sunflowers _ . “Much like his father, though don’t tell either of them that.” She gave Shepard a wry smile.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promised.

“I’m afraid you’ve bonded into a very stubborn family.”

“Well… nice to know we have that in common.”

Galena chuckled and looked over at her. “Do you have time to stay for awhile?” 

Shepard nodded. “Yeah, this was my only stop for the day.”

She patted a free spot on the bed and Shepard sat down slowly. “I’ve enjoyed our lunches, but I still feel like I don’t really know you. Tell me about yourself?”

Shepard’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow… I don’t… even know how to start.”

“How about what did you want to be when you were small? Garrus wanted to be a painter, what about you?”

Shepard thought for a moment. “Depends on what age. For a while, I wanted to be a horse.” She pointed to one in the book. Galena laughed. “Biological impossibility killed that dream. Then I think after that I wanted to be a rock star. And my lack of rhythm definitely killed that one. And then after that… I, uh… I don’t know. I kind of lost sight of what could be, had to focus on what was.”

“If you hadn’t come here, do you think you’d still be with the Alliance?”

Shepard nodded. “Oh, yeah. It’s because of them that I’m here. I mean… I don’t even want to think of where I’d be if I hadn’t joined. If I had to do it all over again, I’d join up right away.”

“Even though it meant coming here?” Galena asked, quietly. Shepard looked up, but her face wasn’t judgemental. She was just simply asking. 

“Yeah,” she replied after a moment, a little surprised at how easy that answer was for her. “It’s been… difficult, even painful at times. But I’ve grown to appreciate it here. And a lot of that’s to do with Garrus.” 

Galena looked confused, or maybe intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“I know he’s made special efforts just to make me happier here… I really appreciate it,” she finished softly. “He does the right thing. He’s… a good man. You should be proud.” 

A look that Shepard couldn’t quite parse passed through Galena’s eyes and then she took Shepard’s hand in hers. “Thank you. Mothers always like to hear that about their children.”

Something that Shepard thought she had long since moved past seemed to clench deep inside her. Galena must have been able to read it in her face as she squeezed her hand.

“Do you know anything of your mother?” she asked, softly.

“Not much.” Shepard shook her head. “I know her name was Hannah and she was young, fifteen, when she had me. ...I used to be really scared that the same thing would happen to me. I didn’t want to do to another kid what had been done to me.” 

The words just seem to fall out of her, things that she hadn’t thought about in years and hadn’t told anyone. Ever. For a moment she was scared; what would Galena think of her?

“We’re kind of a strange match, when you think about it,” Shepard said, trying to backpedal out of these waters. “Unwanted street kid from Earth married to the probable future Primarch of Palaven.” She tried to laugh at her own joke, but it fell flat. 

“You underestimate yourself,” Galena said. Shepard looked up at her. “I don’t know how things are done on Earth, but here, where you come from matters very little compared to what you achieve. You’ve achieved a great deal, Shepard. And not just in the war. Don’t forget that.”

Shepard nodded and found herself strangely comforted by her words. Maybe moms actually were all they were cracked up to be.

“If nothing else,” Galena added, a soft smile on her face. “Garrus is happier than I’ve seen him in a long while. And I think a lot of that’s to do with you.”

Shepard couldn’t figure out why, but some part of her was oddly delighted to know that. 

“Humanity’s very lucky to have you as their representative here. Maybe in the future that can become more official.” 

“Yeah… maybe.”

Galena squeezed her hand and then let go to turn to the next page of her book. She frowned down at the painting. “Now… who was Picasso? And did humanity used to have both eyes on one side of their face?”

 

Garrus heaved the large box out of the car and headed up the front steps of the house. “Shepard?” he called, as the front door opened. 

She was heading up the stairs and looked over her shoulder at him. “Hey,” she said, before stopping and turning all the way around. “What’s in the box?”

The grin he’d just barely been suppressing broke out. “Terra got in a new shipment today.”

“And you… stole some merchandise?” she said, raising her eyebrows disapprovingly.

“No, actually. This came for you.” He watched her face turn immediately suspicious and he breezed into the dining room, setting the box down on the table.

“What do you mean that came for me?” she asked, appearing in the doorway.

The box had already been unsealed during inspection so Garrus merely pulled the flaps back and stepped aside, waving a hand of invitation. She approached cautiously, glancing at him with practically every step and looked into the box.

It was full with something, but the contents covered with a protective paper. There was a small vid screen lying on top. As Shepard picked up the screen, it activated and her mouth dropped open.

“Shepaaaaaard!” A chorus of voices declared from the screen. Garrus stepped behind her to see a group of five humans wearing dark blue uniforms crowded together and speaking to the camera. They were all yelling over each other, some singing, some chanting. “Shepard! Shep-sheppy-Shep! Shepaaaaaaaaaaaaaard!!” 

“Guys, guys! Shut up!” A man in the front row with a short beard and hat waved a hand. “I think the bit has played out.”

“You’re played out,” a very muscular man in the back row shot back.

“Cruel but fair,” the man in the hat replied. “Anyway, hey Commander! We heard that there was this company shipping stuff to Palaven and so we thought we’d send you a care package!”

The muscular man leaned forward. “Yeah, we figured nine months was a long enough time that you’d finally miss us.”

“Even Joker,” a darker skinned woman in the front chimed in.

“Hey!” Joker turned to look back at them.

Sitting to Joker’s right was a man with dark hair and a very square jaw. “So we put our heads together and collected all the things that we thought really represented Earth,” he said with a smile.

“But then we realized that we’d need a refrigerator box to ship it to you,” the woman said. Her voice sounded different from the others, like the words were rounder somehow coming from her. “And we… couldn’t afford that.”

“So we pared it down to this!” the last of her crew added, spreading his arms out and accidentally smacking the muscular man in the shoulder. They seemed to be in very tight quarters.

“Hey, watch it, Esteban.”

“Sorry,” Esteban apologized.

“Go ahead and open the first layer there,” the muscular man instructed. Shepard set down the screen and pulled off the layer of paper. “You’ll find we have alllll the finest delicacies from earth.”

Underneath was an array of packages and bags, all brightly colored and carefully wrapped.

“It’s all pre-packaged stuff,” Esteban explained. “We didn’t want to poison Palaven with some bad fruit.”

“Wouldn’t that be the long con of the century?” Joker quipped with a grin.

“There’s Twinkies, Caramilks, those shrimp cocktail crisps you like,” the woman started.

“Poutine doesn’t ship well, I’m afraid,” the dark haired man stepped in. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I really tried.”

“Maple syrup. ‘Cause we figured Palaven probably has pancakes, right?” Joker said. Garrus didn’t know what pancakes were. Shepard held up a dark glass bottle and passed it to him with a wide smile. Whatever maple syrup was smelled very sweet. He carefully put it aside.

“A few rations bars in case you’re feeling nostalgic.” Shepard laughed as she pulled out some flat silver packages with plain black text and set them next to the syrup. Though he couldn’t read the text, they were unmistakable to any soldier.

“Only you would miss rations, Vega,” the woman said.

“The spagbol isn’t bad if you eat it fast enough,” Vega justified.

“And Donnelly sent a bottle of the best scotch he could afford,” Esteban put them back on course. “Also, he and Daniels say hello and that they miss you.”

“And don’t think too much about it if that scotch is missing from the box. It’s definitely someone else’s fault.” Joker grinned at the camera. Shepard pulled out another glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

“I think that’s everything food-wise.” The dark haired man leaned forward to see around Joker. “Traynor, what’s in the next layer?”

“It’s all the non food stuff.” Shepard pulled off another layer of paper to reveal more carefully wrapped packages of all shapes and sizes. The smell of all the combined items was very strange. “I got you that shampoo you really like, the kind that smells like blueberries and honey? And some nice soap and a sea sponge, some charcoal cleanser, face masks, nail polish--I think I probably picked up some other things too.”

Shepard laughed and shook her head, pulling out all manner of bottles and squeeze tubes.

“Basically Lush owes their continued existence to Traynor.” Joker definitely lived up to his nickname, or gave it his best shot anyway.

“At least my stuff is useful.” Traynor turned back to the camera. “These guys got you weird stuff.”

Vega laughed and waved his hands. “This was all Kaidan’s idea.”

So the dark-haired man was the infamous Major Alenko. He smiled to the camera. “Vega, Cortez, and I went to that souvenir store down by the cruise ship docks and got some things to remind you of home.”

Vega started counting on his fingers. “Let’s see, we got a Vancouver snow globe, a Vancouver shot glass, monogrammed Vancouver keychain.”

“A Vancouver coffee mug,” Esteban, or Cortez perhaps, added.

“You’re welcome for the moose socks. My idea,” Joker interrupted.

“A pennant for the Canucks. They’re having a real shaky season so far.”

“When are they not?” Vega said, not quite under his breath.

Kaidan continued unbothered. “They must know their number one fan isn’t in the stands.”

These items were more familiar to Garrus, minus the wording that he couldn’t read. Apparently most places on Earth had glasses and keychains made for them. Shepard pulled everything out and tried to find places on the very crowded table. There was still another layer of protective paper.

“Now, this next layer,” Traynor started. “Well… this one’s from Captain Anderson. He said to say he wishes he could do more?”

“Yeah, he was really cryptic,” Cortez said, looking towards Vega who shrugged.

“She’ll probably know what it means,” Kaidan said assuredly.

“Enjoy the hoodie,” Vega said with a smile.

Shepard stilled for a moment, then ripped away the next layer of paper. Underneath was a black shirt, or jacket of some kind. There was a bright red and white stripe down the right arm and a symbol emblazoned across the chest. She pulled it out and just looked at it for a moment, then clutched it to her chest and buried her face in the soft fabric.

As if they knew how much this particular item would mean to her, there was silence coming from the screen. 

“...How long do you think we should wait?” Joker asked in a fake whisper after a minute. That made Shepard chuckle and she lifted her head from the hoodie to look at the screen.

“We’re probably good now,” Kaidan replied.

Joker nodded and turned back to the camera. “So at the very bottom is a datapad.”

“We each recorded individual messages to you,” Traynor explained. “And I’ve been in talks with Captain Anderson about setting up some video calls so we could chat. Anyway, I included the address that should work by the time you get this. Hopefully.”

“And I loaded the pad with that playlist you always played on the  _ Somme _ ,” Kaidan said.

“You know there are other bands besides Queen, right Shepard?” Vega asked, shaking his head.

“There’s not,” Shepard said to Garrus, smiling.

“And I loaded what you say your favorite movie is--” 

“ _ Honor the Fallen _ ,” Cortez said.

“And your actual favorite movie--” 

“ _ Captain Marvel _ ,” Traynor finished. “The original, not the remake.” 

Vega leaned forward. “I put in that clip of Alenko and the rope swing.” The whole group and Shepard smiled.

“Ah-Hah! Classic.” Joker laughed.

“Thanks, Vega.”

“I think that’s everything,” Traynor said. There was a pause for a moment as it seemed none of them knew what to say.

“We miss you, Commander,” Cortez started them off.

Vega nodded. “Yeah,  _ Somme _ ’s just not the same without you.”

“We think about you all the time,” Kaidan said with a sad smile.

“Give ‘em heck for us.” Joker winked.

“And stay safe.” Traynor waved at the camera, then reached toward the screen and the recording stopped.

Shepard gently ran a hand over the screen and then looked out at the veritable treasure trove of items her squad had gathered for her. Her smile seemed to quiver a little.

“I can’t believe…” She stopped and just shook her head. She looked down at the hoodie and then put it on. 

“You know, I always thought that your squad couldn’t possibly be as crazy as your stories always made them seem,” Garrus said, picking up the ‘snow globe’ and examining the strangely shaped buildings inside. “I’m happy to be wrong.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

He shook his head and set it back down. “Oh, I didn’t--”

“My squad is amazing… but they wouldn’t have known that something like this could be possible without some help.” She ran her hand over the stripe on her hoodie. “This means… it means so much.” She met his gaze and for a moment it felt like his heart stopped.

He nodded a little. “It’s uh-- Don’t worry… It was no…” Mentally, he could strangle himself. Why was he so flustered all of a sudden? There was no reason to get tongue-tied around Shepard. 

She seemed to take pity on him and stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his middle. After a moment of hesitation, he did the same, holding her tight and lowering his head to brush against the top of hers. 

“Thank you,” she said again, still hugging him. After another moment that didn’t feel nearly long enough, he let her go.

Giving up trying to have any sort of coherent response, he settled for picking up the syrup. “Well… shall we find out if Palaven has pancakes?” 

She smiled. “Sure thing.”


	26. Don't Count Your Chickens

Shepard pulled on the sleeve of her hoodie. She’d hardly taken it off since she’d pulled it out of the care package from her team a few days ago. It meant so much to have it back, to have all these small pieces of her old life back. She’d watched and rewatched the messages from her team till she could practically quote them. It was so, so good to see that they hadn’t changed in the time she’d been gone. They were still wild, crazy, and the best damn soldiers she’d ever known. Yet here she was, still nervous as the computer continued to chime.

She hadn’t spoken with another human since Khalisah’s god awful interview. And that was several months ago at this point. Did she even remember how to read their expressions? She wasn’t given further time to dwell on it as the computer stopped chiming and the screen went dark. Then a familiar human face appeared.

“Ashley!” Shepard cried, a wide smile splitting across her face.

Ashley frowned and blinked twice. “Shepard?” she said, sounding like she didn’t believe what she was seeing right in front of her. She sat down in the chair in front of the computer.

“Hi! It’s so good to see you!” Shepard was still smiling like an idiot, she could feel it. But she couldn’t stop. This was someone she knew! Someone she loved! It was Ash!! 

“How did you… get this address?”

“Traynor gave it to me in-in the care package. Holy shit, thank you for that. It meant the  _ world _ . I love it so much.”

“Care package,” Ashley repeated, nodding a little. “Right.”

“The chips are already gone, I couldn’t help myself. They don’t have potatoes here, or anything close at all.” Shepard laughed. “The messages were great, though I think yours may have gotten wiped during inspection. But that’s okay, you’re here now. Oh god, we also tried one of the rations packs. Garrus said it tasted like grass, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Better than I remembered them.”

“Garrus. That’s your…”

“Mate,” Shepard finished.

“Husband,” Ashley said, at the same time.

“Yeah, that too.” Shepard smiled again. “I think you’d like him if you met, he’s really smart. And I bet he could clean a rifle as fast as you.”

“I bet he could,” she said, coldly.

Shepard’s smile faded. “Is… Is everything alright, Ash?” She’d hoped that she was just imagining things. Ashley was never the most jovial of people, but they had a good rapport. Or at least… they used to.

Ashley shook her head and looked down, becoming even more detached. “Everything’s fine, Skipper.”

“Really?” Shepard chuckled a little, hoping to pull her out of this odd funk. “I know it’s been a while, but I still know you.”

Ashley’s eyes snapped back to her and she sat up perfectly straight in her chair. Something was wrong. Thousands of lightyears apart and Shepard could feel it in her very bones.

“What’s going on?” Shepard asked, more solemn this time.

Ashley didn’t reply for a few moments, then just said, “I saw Khalisah’s interview.”

The temperature in the room plummeted. 

Still stubbornly clinging to some sort of hope that this wasn’t going the way she feared it was, Shepard tried to keep things light. “Never was very good on camera.”

Ashley didn’t reply.

“Did she cut out the part where I headbutted her?”

“She must have.”

There was silence again. Shepard decided to tackle the problem head on. “Come on, Ash, you know Khalisah--”

“Yeah, I do. I do know Khalisah.” She looked at Shepard for a long moment, something huge simmering in her eyes. “I just thought I knew  _ you _ .”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means… I know that she can turn words around, chop them up and put them back together so it sounds like you mean the opposite of what you said. I know that. But Khalisah can’t fake footage.” Her lip curled up a little. “You hold his hand?” she whispered, sounding almost horrified.

For a split second, Shepard was confused. Then she realized. Passing Garrus that note from Anderson must have looked like she held his hand, Shepard surmised. She’d held his hand a few times more since then too.

But Ashley wasn’t done. “And you let him touch your hair?? Have you forgotten how many of us they killed?”

“Of course n--”

“Did you forget what happened to Jenkins?”

“No!”

“Or what they did to Opportunity? Jesus, I thought if anyone wouldn’t forget Mars, it would be you.”

“I didn’t forget, Ashley,” Shepard insisted through gritted teeth. “I haven’t forgotten any of it.”

“Sure, you haven’t,” she replied, sarcastically. 

“This isn’t just…” Shepard forced herself to take a steadying breath. “You don’t understand.”

“Then please,  _ explain _ it to me,” Ashley spat. “Make me understand how you think this is okay.”

Shepard worked hard to keep her voice level. “There is no extraction plan. This is the rest of my life, Ash. I live here now. And I will. Forever. I can’t spend every day looking over my shoulder expecting constant danger from the people I live with. I tried that and it  _ doesn’t work. _ ” 

“Is that what helps you sleep at night?”

“It’s the truth.”

Ashley shook her head. “I guess Khalisah was right,” she said, bitterly. “You really did leave Earth to join the winning side.”

Shepard felt like she’d been slapped. “I haven’t joined any side,” she insisted

“Well, you’re sure as hell not on ours anymore!”

“The war is over.”

“Like hell it is,” Ashley snapped. Her eyes were bright and furious. “It’s never over for people like us. You don’t just get to wake up one morning and decide that you’re fine with the people that slaughtered civilians!” She scoffed bitterly. “I can’t believe that you would do this. I looked up to you, Shepard!” Her voice grew thick and she blinked quickly. “When you told us that they were sending you to Palaven, I said to myself, ‘There goes Shepard, throwing herself into the belly of the beast to punch her way back out.’ But instead… you became one of them.”

“I-- I did--” Shepard shook her head. “What do you want me to say, Ash? ‘Cause it sure sounds like nothing I tell you is going to disprove what you’ve already decided is true.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” she said, bitterly. Her voice became instantly brittle. “I Don’t Care. You’re not my commander anymore. And you’re not my friend.” 

No, please. Not like this. It felt like Shepard couldn’t quite breathe. “Ash, please, wait. W-we can talk about this. Just let me… explain or some--”

“No. I’m done,” Ashley said, sitting up straight and fixing her with a scathing look. “Have a nice life, Shepard. Enjoy Palaven and your  _ mate _ .”

She hung up. Shepard stared at the dark screen for a minute as a very heavy weight settled on her chest.

 

Garrus came through the front door and immediately headed into the kitchen, setting down the precarious bags of groceries he’d stacked in his arms. There were almost too many manage, but he’d be damned before he made two trips. Whoever thought it was a good idea to put the main living space on the second floor of the house was an absolute moron. 

He almost called out for Shepard, but then he heard voices coming from upstairs. She’d mentioned that she was going to try Traynor’s number today. Sounds like it worked. He smiled a little. He kept thinking about how her face looked when she saw her squad on that tiny video screen. How much better to actually talk to them.

“...doesn’t work,” Shepard’s voice floated down the stairs. His smile disappeared. She didn’t sound like he expected she would. Cautious, he went to the stairs.

A woman’s voice that he didn’t recognize came over the speakers on the computer. “I guess Khalisah was right. You really did leave Earth to join the winning side.”

Garrus froze half-way up the stairs. 

“I haven’t joined any side,” Shepard said, her voice was tense.

“Well, you’re sure as hell not on ours anymore!” the woman shot back.

He listened as the rest of the conversation played out, his gut sinking with every word. 

“Ash, please, wait,” Shepard said, sounding almost exactly like she did in that final call she had with Anderson. “We can talk about this. Just let me explain.”

“No. I’m done. Have a nice life, Shepard. Enjoy Palaven and your mate.” And then the call ended.

The silence seemed to roar down the stairs. He was probably the last person she wanted to see right now, but he went up the stairs anyway. Shepard was sitting at the desk, her posture stiff and immaculate. Her hands were fisted on her knees and she was taking very deliberate breaths.

“Shepard?” he asked in a very low voice.

Every muscle in her body immediately clenched and she jumped to her feet. “H… hey,” she said, trying to sound normal and not doing a very good job of it. She swallowed hard and glanced at him then away. “Back… from work already?”

He didn’t answer, just looked at her. She was doing everything that she could to hold up some sort of wall of normality. But it was quickly turning to rubble in her hands.

“How much did you hear?” she whispered, her voice gone hoarse.

“Enough,” he said, daring to step towards her but she retreated.

She nodded quickly and turned away, rapping her knuckles on the desktop. “I hate to say I told you so, but…” And then she didn’t say anything. Her jaw clenched as her head dropped. “Shit.” She rubbed fiercely at one eye with the base of her hand. “ _ Shit _ .”

A tear rolled down the cheek that he could see. Reactively, he moved towards her. She moved away, putting the desk between them.

“Shep--” he started.

“Garrus, please. You don’t…” He could see more tears beginning to gather in her eyes, and something deep inside him ached at the sight. He’d never seen her cry in person before. It was even more visceral than the vid had been. She forced herself to take a calming breath and shook her head. “I don’t--”

“If you want to be alone, I understand,” he said softly. The way she suddenly looked to him felt like a gut punch. Though she couldn’t hear it, his subvocals hummed in concern.

“I don’t…” She swallowed hard and looked away. He came around the desk and slowly approached her as she took several more calming breaths. But for all her efforts, she didn’t seem to be making any headway. She looked up at him, a whole galaxy’s worth of sorrow and hurt just barely held at bay in her eyes.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would fix this. He hated this feeling, this helplessness. He had nothing else to offer her, so he just put a hand on her shoulder. And that broke the dam.

Her expression melted as everything she’d been trying to hold back suddenly poured out of her. Quickly, she reached towards him and buried her face against his neck, sinking down to her knees and pulling him down with her. He held her close; offering sympathy, comfort, anything he could find through his subvocals. Her ragged sobs seemed to cut straight through him.

As she wept, he found himself almost angry. This wasn’t fair. Shepard didn’t deserve this. Not after everything she’d been through already. Connecting her with her squad again wasn’t supposed to burn her, to cause her even more pain. He didn’t know who the hell that woman was, but how  _ dare _ she? If that’s what she thought, then she didn’t know Shepard at all. She didn’t  _ deserve _ to know Shepard at all.

How long Shepard’s storm raged he wasn’t sure. She slowly quieted, sobs turning to sniffles, but didn’t move from his embrace. He held her as the sun set behind the tall trees in the back garden. Eventually, she sat back, her arms unfurling from around his neck. He caught her hands before they could drop in her lap. They were quiet for a long moment. Then she finally met his gaze.

And it suddenly hit him square between the eyes.

All the puzzling feelings he’d been having, every strange reaction, every errant thought, it all added up to the painfully obvious conclusion. It had been staring him right in the face and he’d missed it till this moment.

Tear tracks stained Shepard’s still blotchy cheeks. Her hoodie was wrinkled. Dark circles had gathered under her red-rimmed eyes. She squeezed his hands and sighed. She stood and he let her go, watching her as she retreated downstairs. After a moment, he stood and looked out the back windows, marvelling at his discovery.

He tried to figure out when it started. What was the catalyst that set off this chain reaction? Where had he stepped out of the bounds of what he expected into ...this? Try as he might, he couldn’t find the day, the conversation, the moment. Perhaps there wasn’t one. Perhaps it wasn’t a singular second, but rather the sum total of everything they’d experienced combined. Even still, there was no denying what he now knew to be true.

He had feelings for Shepard.

Crap.


	27. Apples to Oranges

     Shepard pulled on the bottom hem of the dress. It didn’t budge one inch, staying practically glued to the middle of her thighs. Whatever the space equivalent of leather was, it also didn’t breathe very well. She’d just put this damn dress on and she was already sweating.

     “Need any help in there?” Keslia asked on the other side of the changing room curtain.

     “No, I think I got it,” Shepard replied, now arguing with the neckline.

     “Then come on out, let me see.”

     She sighed. “Fine.”

     Shepard opened the curtain and then went to stand in front of the nearby mirror. Her eyebrows shot up at her reflection. Well then. The word ‘va-va-voom’ suddenly came to mind. Keslia appeared behind her with a wide grin on her pretty blue face.

     “Told you it would look good on you. Turn, look at the back.”

     Shepard turned to the side. Well, this dress certainly did perform miracles for her backside. But she couldn’t say that she really liked this black ‘leather’ number.

     “Asari really aren’t shy about accentuating all this, I see.” Shepard turned her torso side to side, her cleavage on full display. “Feel like I’m gonna put someone’s eye out with these things.”

     “So here’s the thing you have to understand about being a non-turian on Palaven: you will never be able to really compete with the other turians in terms of physical attractiveness,” Keslia explained, putting a silver necklace on Shepard.

     “Yeah, I wasn’t--”

     “But you have something that no turian will ever have.” And she waved her hand under Shepard’s bust. 

     Shepard frowned. “I thought turians weren’t attracted to breasts.”

     “They aren’t really.” Keslia shrugged a little. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not powerful weapons.”

     Shepard chuckled. “Alright, I see your point.” She looked back at her reflection. “So this dress is ...hot, in more ways than one, but I don’t know if it’s appropriate for the Officer’s Gala. I was told it was very formal.”

     Keslia’s eyes widened dramatically. “ _ That _ ’s where you’re going? Oh, no. No, no. This dress is all wrong.” She practically flew to the other side of the store and pulled off several full length gowns off the rack. “We’ll start over. I thought you were just looking for something nice--not Officer’s Gala nice.”

     She pushed Shepard back into the dressing room and handed her a red dress with flowing sleeves. Shepard gratefully switched from the leather dress to the new one.

     “So this gala is a big deal then?” Shepard asked, sliding the curtain open again. Keslia had found a platform and put it down in front of the mirror. She patted it for Shepard to come stand on it.

     “Yes! This is--the most important people in the entire Hierarchy will be there,” she said, slipping Shepard into a pair of heels that matched the color of the dress. “The Primarch, all the Generals, everyone.”

     Garrus had said it was important, but didn’t give her the idea that is was  _ this _ important. Leave it to him to downplay the event of the year apparently. 

     The two of them looked at her reflection and they both frowned.

     “I don’t like the red, not with your fringe color,” Keslia mused, moving back towards the racks. “What’s the color of the colony markings of your date?”

     Shepard thought. “Blue… sort of darker blue, but not quite navy.” 

     “And the plate color?” She flipped through a few more dresses.

     “Uh, light grey?”

     “Ooh, lucky you.”

     “Thanks?” What did she mean by that?

     “Let’s try this one.” She pulled off a black dress that seemed to shimmer iridescent purple under the light. “This should cover your back and shoulders just fine.”

     “Thanks,” Shepard said, taking the dress and heading back to the changing room. It had always been a little bit of a trick to find formal clothing that covered her scars. On Earth, she never had that many opportunities to demand formal attire and a dress uniform covered everything. But here on Palaven was a different story on both fronts.

     The dress was simple to get on, a point in its favor. But when Shepard looked at her reflection, she wasn’t enthused.

     “What do you think?” Keslia asked, straightening the skirt.

     “I mean…” It covered the scars on her back just fine and also covered up her missing bondmark. It was comfortable and fit her well enough. “It’s fine, I guess.” Shepard shrugged. “I can get this one.”

     “No, no. We’re not going for ‘fine, I guess’. We’re going for…” Keslia stopped and then came around to stand in front of Shepard, her arms full of other gowns. “Listen, this gala. Everyone who’s anyone is going to be there and they’re all going to have opinions. It’s not a party, it’s a battle. And this,” she waved to the dress. “Is your armor.”

     Shepard looked at the dress again. She’d never really thought about clothes that way before.

     “What do you feel when you wear armor?” Keslia asked.

     Shepard thought for a moment. “Strong… powerful. A… force to be reckoned with.”

     “Do you feel that in this dress?”

     “...no.”

     Keslia nodded. “Then we’ll keep looking. I have  _ plenty _ of other options.” She turned back to look through the racks again.

     Shepard turned to look at her reflection from the side. The back of the dress rose to the base of her neck. She hadn’t felt powerful at all since arriving on Palaven. Maybe it was being surrounded by a species with superior strength, reflexes, and senses. Maybe it was coming from the losing side of a war. She lifted her chin. She’d been cut down, yes. But she lived. She was a survivor. And she had the scars to prove it.

     “What if,” Shepard turned to meet Keslia’s gaze. “We didn’t hide the scars?”

     Keslia looked surprised. “You sure?”

     Shepard looked back at her reflection and straightened her posture, something about this idea felt right. “I’m sure.”

     Keslia’s grinned turned downright diabolical. “Blue colony markings, right?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I have the perfect dress.”

 

     Garrus checked the time on his omnitool and sighed. “Shepard, we need to leave in three minutes,” he called up the stairs.

     “I’m almost done!”

     She’d been almost done for the past thirty minutes. He threw up his hands in defeat and walked back into the living room, dropping down on the couch. He used to think that Sol took a long time getting ready. But Shepard had easily broken her record and then some. She’d monopolized the bathroom ever since he’d returned from work and who knew how long before then. He’d even taken the time to buff his plates and he was still finished long before Shepard. Were all humans so high maintenance?

     His fingers drummed on his knee. The evening ahead of them had the potential to be… well, just shy of a disaster. It was certainly a bold move to be bringing Shepard at all. But it was made very clear to him by his Executor that he was expected to attend. Under more normal circumstances, it would also be expected that he would be bringing his mate. So really, if the Hierarchy didn’t want her there, they shouldn’t have invited him. But they did, and so they were both going to perhaps the most important social function of Garrus’ career so far.

     He checked the time again. They needed to leave now if they hoped to arrive on time. He stood and quickly headed to the foyer.

     “Shep--” his words died in his throat as she was coming down the stairs. His jaw dropped open involuntarily.

     She held up the long full skirt on her deep blue dress--the same color as his colony markings, he noticed with a lurch of his heart. It was simple in design, but elegant in the way it cut in at her waist and flowed off her hips. And, well, the color looked great on her he couldn’t help but think. She’d done something different with her hair. It was twirled and spiraled and swept up, making her neck look longer. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she smiled knowingly at him. She was absolutely breathtaking.

     “On Earth, open-mouthed staring’s usually a good sign,” she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

     He blinked a few times and tried to pick his mandible up off the proverbial floor. Say  _ something _ , Vakarian. You look like an idiot!

     She chuckled. “You haven’t even seen the best part,” she continued, before he figured out how to put words together again. She turned away from him, walking into the living room, and he had to begin to remember how to words all over again. 

     Her dress was backless, exposing the delicate curve of her spine and a dusting of freckles. The scars that he’d only seen once before were on full display, six long pale lines surrounded by rich blue fabric. It was different seeing the scars this time. She looked… triumphant. She’d survived everything the Hierarchy had thrown at her. And here she was, attending their finest party. Damn, just when he thought it wasn’t possible to have any more respect and admiration for her.

     “What do you think?” she asked, picking up her wrap from the couch. She looked back at him, just the faintest hint of worry in her eyes. “Good enough for the Officer’s Gala?”

     “It’s perfect,” he finally managed with a smile. He wanted to say more, but he knew the words would get all tangled up on themselves. So he just nodded and offered her his arm, which she took with a smile.

     The gala was being held in the heart of Cipritine, in the largest of the military history museums. It was one of the oldest and most intricately crafted buildings in all of Palaven. The ceiling was entirely glass and lange angular chandeliers illuminated the wide granite halls. 

     Garrus and Shepard were among the the last to arrive. He glanced down at her as they walked in to see if she was okay. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. Her face was placid and not even the obvious stares they were receiving seemed to fluster her. He followed her lead, settling into an unaffected expression. It was definitely easier to handle the unwanted attention with her by his side. He wondered if she felt the same.

     Before they could join the gala proper, they had to go through the reception line and greet the Primarch. Fedorian’s brow plates lifted abruptly when they reached the front of the line; Victus next to him had a very similar expression.

     “Major Vakarian,” Fedorian said, a flat tone of warning in his subvocals.

     “Primarch,” Garrus replied, adhering strictly to the most formal and polite tones he could.

     Fedorian’s gaze moved to Shepard and he nodded to her stiffly.

     “I’m honored to be here, Primarch Fedorian,” Shepard said. Even without subvocals, it wasn’t hard to hear the ulterior meanings in her polite words.

     “The honor… is ours,” Fedorian replied, fixing Garrus with a hard stare. Garrus resisted the natural instinct to submit to the authority of the glare. Instead, he just nodded and escorted Shepard past them. As they turned away, Garrus heard both Fedorian and Victus’ subvocals give off a sudden shocked snap.

     “I think they liked your dress,” Garrus said quietly to Shepard. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops new bottle of champagne* My doc broke 150 pages and 80,000 words! Whee!! Happy Friday! <3, K


	28. Blessing in Disguise

There were a _lot_ of people here at this gala, Shepard thought as they stepped into some sort of main hall. The museum was sprawling and everywhere she looked were turians. It was a sea of steel greys and fawn browns, wrapped in the deep rich colors the species seemed to prefer. She didn’t regret her dress at all; Garrus’ reaction alone was well worth any other discomfort. Him going slack-jawed and speechless was far better than she’d hoped, and deeply satisfying in a way. But some part of her couldn’t help but be far too aware of how exposed her skin was… and how most everyone in the room naturally possessed the equipment to duplicate her scars.

“So what happens now?” Shepard asked, looking over the crowd again before turning to look up at Garrus. “Is there a ...dinner?” A horrifying thought occurred to her. “Dancing?” she asked, trepidatiously.

He smiled a little. “There is some dancing, but it’s not mandatory.”

“Thank god.”

“There is also food, if you’d like. But mostly it’s a chance to talk with people more important than yourself.”

“Ah-hah,” she said, nodding. She’d been to parties like this before. They were always terribly boring. “I see now. Rubbing elbows with the big dogs.”

He frowned at her. “I… what?”

She laughed. There was a lot of joy to be gained from listening to their translators trying to parse idioms. “Mingling with the bosses.”

“Ah. Then yes.” He looked out at the crowd. “I should probably speak with a few of the Generals, Fedorian… maybe even Councilor Sparatus if I can manage it, though I don’t think he’s here tonight.” Garrus looked back to where the Primarch was still greeting guests. By the tone of his voice, she could tell Garrus wasn’t looking forward to any of it.

“Would it be better for your career if you mingled without me?” Shepard asked. He frowned down at her. “It’s alright if the answer’s yes.”

He didn’t reply, as if he didn’t didn’t like the answer, and glanced away. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked, instead. It answered the question anyway.

“They’ll have levo?”

“Asari mates aren’t unheard of.” He nodded towards a passing pair, a Fleet General with an asari on her arm.

Right, of course. “Then yes, please.”

“I’ll be right back.” He walked over towards where a line had formed near a drinks station.

Shepard turned and studied a nearby exhibit while she waited. It was about the Krogan Rebellions. She’d done a cursory study of the most important parts of galactic history when she’d first arrived on Palaven. Calling the genophage a ‘necessary solution’ was an interesting spin, and one few krogan would agree with, Shepard doubted. She was distracted from further study when a trio of turian women came up behind her, talking loudly amongst themselves.

One of them gasped. “Cyntha, you’ll never guess who is here.”

“Who?” Cyntha, probably, replied.

“Major Vakarian,” her friend said in a sing-song voice.

Now Cyntha gasped. Shepard glanced over at the trio. They were staring over towards the drinks station where Garrus was still in line. They reminded her of meerkats a little bit. Shepard had to suppress a smile.

“Spirits, just when I thought he couldn’t get anymore more gorgeous,” Cyntha said, shaking her head a little.

“It doesn’t get better than grey plates and blue markings,” the one on the right in a red dress added.

“And his fringe?” Cyntha replied. Red Dress nodded.

Huh. Apparently Garrus was attractive. Shepard thought that was a little odd. Sure, he had a nice voice and his eyes were a piercing blue. But he was like a Greek statue. Beautiful, yes, but not ...mortal. She realized that didn’t make much sense.

“I heard he has a mate now,” the last one finally spoke up.

“Really?” Red Dress asked.

“It’s probably just a rumor, I don’t see a mark on him,” Cyntha dismissed the claim decidedly. “Tonight’s the night, ladies. I can feel it.” She rolled her shoulders and straightened her dress.

“What makes you think this time will be any different? He’s already turned you down. Twice,” Last One said. Shepard chuckled under her breath.

“The second time doesn’t count,” Cyntha retorted. “He didn’t turn me down, he just disappeared.”

“It does with the amount of pheromones you were pumping out.”

“You’re just jealous because he doesn’t even know your name,” Red Dress pointed out.

“Shut up and go away. He’s coming over here,” Cyntha said. Garrus was heading towards Shepard, two drinks in hand. Cyntha intercepted him.

“Garrus,” she purred, taking a less than natural stance that was probably supposed to be alluring.

“Cyntha,” he replied shortly, his mandibles pulled in tightly to his face. Oh, he wasn’t happy to see her. Shepard didn’t even bother pretending that she wasn’t watching anymore. This was too good.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. How _are_ you?”

“Fine.” He tried to step around her, but she sidestepped back into his path. Shepard had to give it to her, the woman was determined.

“You know, I was hoping I’d run into you here. We never got to say a proper goodbye that night at Polaris.”

Garrus grimaced, but Cyntha paid no mind. Oh, was this the girl he had to sneak out a loading dock to get away from? This just kept getting better and better.

“Do you want to go together to talk with Victus and Traetus?” she asked. “I just came with a friend of mine, who seems to have wandered off, and I’d love the company.”

“Sorry, no. I’m here with my mate. So if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped quickly around Cyntha and approached Shepard. He handed her a flute of pink bubbling liquid. “Do you want to see the rest of the museum?” he asked, a desperate edge to his voice.

“Lead the way.” Shepard glanced back at Cyntha and her friends. They all had a similar shocked expression on their faces. She gave them a polite smile and put her arm through Garrus’ as he cut a hasty escape to another area of the museum.

“I see now why you had to sneak out,” Shepard said as she practically jogged to keep up with him.

Garrus shook his head and barely dodged around a group of older women. “You think she’d take a hint.”

“She hears the hints. She’s just ignoring them.”

He slowed down when they reached a new gallery with ancient sets of armor on display.

“I think we’re safe for now,” he said, looking around and letting out a long breath.

For a minute or two, Shepard studied Garrus in contrast to the other men in the room, trying to see what Cyntha and her friends saw. His markings weren’t as intricate as others certainly, but she liked how decisive they were. They highlighted his features, making his eyes seem bluer almost. On the non-plated part of his head, he had small circles of the same grey color as his face plates. Did he have freckles too? A corner of her mouth quirked up at the thought.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, noticing her practically staring at him.

“Just… trying to figure out something that Cyntha said,” she said, glancing away.

He looked worried. “Do I want to know?”

“According to them, grey plates and blue markings are the pinnacle of turian beauty.” She saw the skin on his neck darken slightly. Was… was he blushing? She gave him a bit of modesty and turned to look at one of the suits of armor. But she wasn’t nice enough to completely let it go. “If I had known, I might have been more polite when we were first married,” she teased with a smile.

He grunted disbelievingly.

“Fair, but I would have thought about it.” She grinned up at him and after a moment he grinned back. Her smile disappeared however, when she spotted Cyntha with her friends in tow enter the gallery. “Don’t turn around. She’s back.”

“Spirits, of course she is.” He rolled his eyes, a habit he definitely picked up from her. It almost made her smile again.

“This is what we’re going to do,” she said in a low, authoritative tone as she watched Cyntha scan the crowd. She took his glass and set both of them down on a passing waiter’s tray. “On the count of three, we’re just going to run away, okay?”

“What?” He looked alarmed.

“One… three.” And she picked her skirt and ran away from Cyntha and her girl gang, Garrus hot on her heels. They dashed out of the gallery and into a wide hallway. She didn’t care that people were staring and muttering loudly as they flew by. She was having _fun_ and from the look on his face, Garrus was too.

Further up ahead on her right, she saw a large floor to ceiling black curtain blocking off some sort of doorway.

“In here,” she said, ducking through the gap in the curtain. Garrus slid along the marble floor as he tried to stop, but quickly pushed through the curtain into the darker room behind her. They were both breathing heavily and she beamed at him, a laugh falling out of her.

He laughed and shook his head. “I think we lost her.”

“If not, we can hide in here till the coast--whoa.” Her smile dimmed as she looked around at the room they’d snuck into.

It was a whole room dedicated to the Hierarchy’s most recent war. ‘Relay 314 & Earth’ was written in large stark letters across the far wall. The exhibit was still in the process of being constructed. A photo wall was only half hung up. Cases in the walls were mostly empty with unopened boxes next to them. A few human mannequins with both casual and military dress were standing next to their intended display.

“Shepard, we don’t have to stay here,” Garrus offered.

She glanced at him and shook her head. “No, this is fine.” Honestly, she was a little curious. She walked closer, her heels clacking on the stone floor, and examined the photo wall. She wasn’t sure how a lot of the photos were taken--did the turians have photographers on the front lines? It wasn’t hard to notice that in all of the pictures the turians looked very strong and valiant while the humans typically looked frightened and unorganized. It certainly painted a neat and tidy picture of their conflict.

She saw Garrus’ reflection in the glass of one of the frames. “It’s fine,” she responded to his careful observation of her. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Her calm outlook wavered a little when she recognized a picture from Mars, specifically from the aftermath of Mars. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she repeated, a little quieter. She didn’t want to look at the pictures anymore.

She drifted over to the mannequins and looked at the four of them for a moment. Funnily enough, she actually owned the shirt the female mannequin was wearing. But the uniformed mannequins were a wreck. Frowning, she rearranged the pins on the officer’s uniform.

“Regimental crest is on the wrong side, and these combat badges are upside down.” She straightened the jacket and then smoothed the hair on the mannequin, red like hers, she vaguely noticed. A little alarmed, she double-checked the combat badges. No, they weren’t the same as hers, and it was a Colonel’s uniform besides.

Garrus put a hand on her shoulder. “Shepard,” he simply said.

She stepped back from the mannequin and looked at him. “It’s…” She looked back at the photo wall. “History is written by the victors,” she said, resignedly. Really she wasn’t bothered, maybe a little sad that this would be Earth’s legacy in the galaxy. But it wasn’t like there was anything she could do about it.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice, concern in his features. She knew he wasn’t asking about the exhibit. After her… well, call it what it was, it was a meltdown--they hadn’t really talked about it. She’d stained his shirt with tears, and then they just continued on business as usual. Maybe because he knew she needed space, or because she didn’t really know what to say. Either way, she was still grateful.

She dropped her gaze from him and thought for a minute. “Yeah, I’m… It’s… disappointing, but it doesn’t change much about daily life,” she said softly. “Ashley’s always been very black and white, and very little of this is anymore.” She looked over the displays and then back to him.

His presence was steadying, calming. She wasn’t really sure when he’d become a refuge for her. But he undeniably was. Even surrounded by the evidence of their people’s past strife, she found herself warmed to be near him. Oddly enough. “But I’m okay. You’re a… a nice shoulder to cry on.”

She felt a gentle thrum of his subvocals through his hand. “If you--” He cleared his throat and he dropped his hand from her shoulder, squeezing his fingers into a fist for a moment. “If you ever need it again, just let me know.”

She nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. What was causing this? She’d barely had a chance to even sip her champagne. “Well, do you think the coast is clear?”

He walked over to the curtain and poked his head out, then leaned back to look at her. “I think we’re clear for the time being.”

She cast one last look around the exhibit before following him back out into the gala.

 

Garrus offered Shepard his arm once again when they had both snuck out of the unopened exhibit. Alright, no more running through the halls like children, as much fun as it was. This was a _very_ important gala. He was a Major, he was bonded, time to act like it.

It was, of course, at that very moment that someone decided to throw their arm around his neck, pulling him down and rubbing roughly at his fringe.

“Who’s the best shot?” Nihlus asked, his subvocals jubilant and smug.

“Nihlus, people are staring,” Garrus hissed, trying to push his friend’s arm off.

“That’s the wrong answer and you know it, Vakarian.” Garrus struggled to free himself, but Nihlus held strong. “Oh, you must be the infamous Shepard, I’m Nihlus.”

“Ah, so _you’re_ Nihlus,” Shepard said. Garrus could hear a smile in her voice.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“You could put it that way.”

Nihlus laughed and mercifully let go of Garrus’ neck. He quickly stood upright and put his jacket and fringe back into place while glaring at Nihlus.

“Thanks for that, really,” he grumbled.

“You missed me and you know it,” Nihlus said, holding out his hand, which Garrus shook.

“Not in the slightest,” Garrus lied with a smile.

“How is Spectre training treating you?” Shepard asked Nihlus.

“It’s treating me well enough,” Nihlus said, modestly. “Keeping me out of trouble for the time being.”

“From what I hear from Garrus, that’s half the battle with you two.”

Nihlus laughed and Garrus ducked his head to hide his smile.

“Now see you’ve only ever heard his side of the stories. _I_ can tell you what really happened.”

“Somehow I think only your superior officers could actually tell me what really happened, but I’d be happy to hear your version as well.”

Garrus watched the two of them banter like old war buddies and found himself humming happily. Nihlus had been an important person in Garrus’ life for many years now. To see Shepard get along well with him, it felt like a small sun had formed inside his chest. And Garrus knew exactly why too.

Nihlus grinned, and glanced at Garrus. An approving rumble emanated from his chest. Garrus’ thoughts exactly.

“How long have you been back planetside?” Garrus asked.

“Only a few days. Didn’t even have enough time to find a date.” Nihlus held out his hands to show how empty they were.

“Going stag to the Officer’s Gala, bold,” Shepard commented.

“Not as bold as your mate here.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“Yes, the gala is abuzz with the fact that the _human_ is here.”

Gossip flowed faster than the wine at these parties, not that he and Shepard had exactly been laying low between the running earlier and her dress.

“Now you have me curious,” Shepard said in a conspiratorial tone. “What are people saying?”

“Mostly just that. The general consensus is that you do look quite beautiful this evening for a human.”

Shepard laughed and Garrus frowned. Something about that phrasing rubbed his plates the wrong way.

“I’ll take that,” she said, graciously. “I think that’s the highest compliment I could expect to receive from the Hierarchy at this point.”

“Though, everyone is very curious…” Nihlus stepped a little closer, and tapped his upper back. “Mars?”

Shepard nodded. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t give a trace of a hint. Even to Garrus.

Nihlus hummed his approval and grinned at the two of them. “Dangerous and strong willed. I can see why Garrus likes you, Shepard. He always did have a thing for women who could kick his--”

Garrus was spared the end of that sentence when unexpectedly they were joined by none other than the Primarch himself. The two turians straightened up automatically, but Shepard just gave him a cool look.

Nihlus literally swallowed his last word and nodded to Fedorian. “Sir.”

“Welcome back to Palaven, Kryik,” Fedorian said. “Arterius tells me he was impressed with your performance in the last mission.”

“Thank you, sir. It was an honor to work with a Spectre of Saren’s caliber.”

“Indeed. Major Vakarian, a word please.” Fedorian turned and started walking away, obviously confident that Garrus would immediately follow. He glanced an apology to Shepard and then looked a question to Nihlus, who nodded. He’d stay with Shepard.

Garrus followed Fedorian into the large room at the end of the wide hall they’d been in. The dancing was happening in this room, music filling the space up to the high glass ceiling. It was busy, but noisy. A perfect place to have a conversation that shouldn’t be overheard, Garrus realized with rising wariness.

Fedorian stopped not too far from the edge of the dance floor. Garrus watched the couples move in coordinated grace and waited for the Primarch to start the conversation, as was only polite.

“Am I going to be disappointed in you, Major?”

Another side-effect of the music, Garrus couldn’t accurately determine Fedorian’s subvocals. Was there malice in those words? Or simply a warning?

“Sir?” Garrus replied, deciding that clinging stubbornly to protocol and deference would be the better strategy. Follow the letter of the law, but not the spirit.

Fedorian regarded him for a long moment. “Do you remember what we discussed in my office a few months ago?”

“Yes, sir, I do.” It was a day that was hard for him to forget.

“So you remember why turians are revered across the galaxy?”

Garrus could picture everything about that conversation, from the smell of the brandy in his hand to Shepard’s exact expression as she begged to go home. “Because we do not suffer fools,” Garrus quoted.

“Exactly.” Fedorian looked back the way they came, just barely could see Nihlus and Shepard still chatting amicably. Even despite the current conversation, Garrus’ heart brightened to see it. “I would be very disappointed to see the son of Castis and Galena make a fool of himself.”

His parents’ names rippled down his spine and settled into the pit of his stomach. He was playing with fire, and it wasn’t just him that could get burned. But he glanced back at where Shepard was standing and something deep inside him steeled.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir,” he said with more confidence than he felt. Fedorian’s eyes narrow marginally. “At your wishes, Shepard is my mate. Why wouldn’t I bring her somewhere I was invited?”

Fedorian gave him an appraising look for a moment and then walked away without another word. Garrus let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Had that actually worked?


	29. Right as Rain

“Major Vakarian, a word please,” the Primarch rumbled before turning immediately away. Garrus followed after him, leaving Shepard with Nihlus.

“Did he mean for that to sound as ominous as it did?” Shepard asked, watching their retreating figures be swallowed by the crowd in the room at the end of the hall.

“I don’t know Fedorian that well, but what little I do know of him--I think I can safely say yes.”

Nihlus didn’t seem too worried about it, Shepard tried to find some comfort in that.

“You know, I’m starting to see the appeal of being bonded. At least that way, I’d have a built in date to Hierarchy functions,” Nihlus mused. 

Shepard gave him a rueful smile. “You said you had a couple days, you couldn’t find anyone to go with you?” she asked in a teasing tone. Nihlus had a convivial frankness about him that made him easy to talk to. 

“They didn’t advertise this, but training to be a Spectre doesn’t leave a lot of time to make new friends. I asked Sol, but she said she was busy.”

She tilted her head. “Garrus’ sister, Sol?”

“The very same.”

She chuckled. “I hate to disappoint you, Nihlus, but I get the impression that you’re not quite her type.” He was not nearly blue enough to attract Sol’s attentions, if Shepard’s impression was correct.

“No, and she’s not really mine either. But it would make both our families so happy if we bonded that it’s fun to tease them every now and then.”

She laughed at that. “I suppose she is their last chance to have a suitable mate for at least one of their children.”

Nihlus’ mandibles quirked. “I don’t know what you’d call suitable on Earth, but you came by the express wishes of the Hierarchy. It doesn’t get much better than that here on Palaven.”

“Then why doesn’t Mr. Castis Vakarian like me?”

He chuckled. “Castis Vakarian doesn’t like anyone, save his bondmate. And maybe Sol.”

“Not Garrus?”

Nihlus hesitated. “I think he likes him more now that Garrus really proved his mettle in the war.”

Shepard nodded a little. She’d gotten the impression from Garrus that he and his father didn’t quite see eye to eye on most things. Apparently, she was correct.

“Nihlus, do you know where the nearest restroom would be?” she asked, looking around the hall a little to see if she could spot it herself.

“It’s just down around the corner there.” He nodded the direction that Garrus was now returning from.

“Thanks.” She gave Garrus a smile as she passed by him.

“Sorry about that,” she heard him say to Nihlus. “What’d you two talk about?”

“Your relationship with your father,” Nihlus answered bluntly with a smile.

Unfortunately, she was too far away to hear Garrus’ response. 

Shepard stepped into the restroom, mostly to check on how her hair was doing. She wasn’t very good at any up-do that wasn’t a uniform approved bun. This contraption she’d rigged together was held together mostly with hair pins and hope. However, it was still in pretty good shape, she noted with pride. She tucked back up the few stands that had escaped during the running.

The door opened again and in walked Cyntha still flanked by her girl gang. Oh, wonderful. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, Shepard thought without much belief behind it. She remained calm and focused on teasing out one of the curls behind her ear.

“You’re Garrus Vakarian’s mate?” Cyntha said, sounding both incredulous and outraged. Alright, so they were doing this.

“I am, yes.” Shepard didn’t say anything more till she was satisfied with how the curl was laying. Then she let her eyes slide over to look at her through the mirror. “And you’re Cyntha.”

She stood up a little straighter, and looked a little pleased. “You’ve heard about me?”

“Garrus has mentioned a horrible woman who will not listen to his wishes. After your performance earlier, it wasn’t hard to put together.”

One of her toadies laughed a little. Until Cyntha shot her a glare. She turned back to Shepard and looked her up and down. There was an extended moment of silence.

“If you’re trying to tell me something via subvocals, I’m afraid I can’t hear them.”

Cyntha’s nasty expression dropped a little, becoming something akin to smugness. “I heard all about this; it’s just some political set up. You’re not even real bondmates, I bet.”

Shepard looked at her for a moment through the mirror and then turned to face her, keeping her expression neutral. “Garrus is my friend. And you are intentionally bothering my friend.”

Cyntha laughed a little. “What are you going to do about it, human?”

Oh, she was glad she asked. Shepard let her voice drop to something just barely above a whisper, but filled with cold steel. “I’m going to tell you politely one last time, and hopefully you’ll listen to me more than him. Leave Garrus alone.”

“Or what?” 

Shepard let a malicious smile slip across her face. “Or  _ I _ will become your problem. And I won’t be as nice as he is.”

Cyntha tried to stare her down, but Shepard was more than up to the task. Cyntha’s nerve broke after a few seconds and she looked away.

“Come on,” she said and left the bathroom, her friends behind her.

Shepard looked back at her reflection and smiled a little. Nice to see that even after almost a year without practice and wearing a ballgown, she still had it.

 

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Though after his conversation with Fedorian, Garrus purposefully brought Shepard with him to mingle. Part of him really liked going partially rogue, especially with Shepard at his side. Something about it felt right. Together, the two of them graciously fielded any questions that were lobbed their way and honestly, probably left a better impression than if it had just been him by himself. Even better, he didn’t see Cyntha for the rest of the night. Surprisingly.

Really, Garrus was feeling pretty good about the whole evening as they drove back to the house. He would feel better though if Shepard wasn’t giving him occasional worried glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“So… what did Fedorian want to talk about?” she asked, sounding very diplomatic, as they got out of the car.

Ah, so that was what was on her mind. “Just…” He momentarily considered trying to shield her from the truth. But he immediately set that aside the impulse. One Hundred Percent. “He didn’t approve that I brought you with me.”

She looked concerned. “Garrus…” she said, softly.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. “Don’t--? The Primarch himself told you tonight that you weren’t supposed to bring me and I’m not supposed to worry about it?”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks; he’s in the wrong. And he knows it. You’re my mate, I can bring you to any function that anyone else would.”

She sighed and turned to look out over the fountain. “You don’t… I don’t want you to feel like you have to… make waves for my sake.” She glanced up at him. “I’ve intruded on your personal life enough; I don’t want to screw up your professional one too.”

He looked at her as she stood next to him. She didn’t seem to notice the deep irony in her sentence. She spoke as if her own personal AND professional lives hadn’t been blown to smithereens by their situation. In a way, he  _ was _ sticking his neck out in front of the Hierarchy for her. But even more so, he was doing it for him. He was doing this because it was right. “It’s not only for your sake,” he said softly. “You know, not  _ everything _ ’s about you.”

She smiled a little. “Just most things,” she quipped. He hummed in response.

For a few minutes, they both just stood in their driveway and looked out at the fountain. It really was lovely in the moonlight, Garrus thought. He looked over as Shepard started rustling under her skirt.

“Technology to cross an entire galaxy in a matter of days, but we still haven’t invented a comfortable high heel,” she grumbled, pulling off her shoes. She grabbed his arm to balance as she pulled off the second one.

“You’re not planning on getting in the fountain again, are you?” he said, only half-joking. 

She grinned at him as she stood back up. “Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

She switched her shoes to one hand and pulled out a small bit of metal from her hair. She pulled out a few more and her hair suddenly came cascading down over her shoulders and back, falling in soft crimson waves. Oh, wow. 

She shook it out and then sighed. “Much better.” When she looked back to him, he realized that he’d been staring. He quickly glanced away. “Sorry you didn’t get to dance tonight.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, it’s alright.”

“I would have offered, but it looked… really complicated.”

“It’s not really, just a…” He looked over at her and he had an idea. “Just a few steps. I could--” He stopped to control his suddenly anticipatory subvocals. “I could show you. If you’d like.”

She appeared to think for a moment. Her hair shone in the moonlight as she tilted her head back and forth teasingly. “Only if you promise not to laugh.”

He smiled. “I promise.” He went back to the car and opened the windows, turning the speakers up a few more clicks.

“Should I put my shoes back on?” she asked, holding out her heels.

“I’m not even sure how you walked in those, so no.”

She tossed them unceremoniously on the ground as he quickly queued up a song with the right time signature on his omnitool. The lilting melody played from the car speakers and she smiled up at him.

He held out his hand and she placed her hand in his. “Mirror my movements and let me lead,” he instructed.

“I’ll try.”

The first step was a simple sashay down the length of the dance floor, rising and falling with the beat. She kept up with him, so far so good. Then at the end he turned towards her and took her other hand. 

“Now we go back,” he guided. She looked a little apprehensive at the hop in between the steps, but they made it back to the beginning without incident. He dropped one of her hands. “Spin.”

“Spin?” Her eyes grew wide and he smiled.

“Spin.” He lifted her arm, still holding her hand. She gave him an uncertain look but then spun, even managing to stay on tempo, as they moved back up the dance floor. Her skirt and hair twirled away from her and he could see a smile on her face. He caught her hand again and spun her under his arms, then turning her around him in a wide circle before spinning her under again. 

She looked surprised when she faced him again. “I did it?” she asked, sounding shocked.

He smiled. “You did. Though we’re not done yet.”

“Maybe we should just stop while we’re ahead.”

“We haven’t gotten to my favorite part.”

“Wonderful,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. He moved her left hand to his shoulder and placed his right hand on her back.

“It’s a simple square step,” he instructed, deliberately not paying attention to how her muscles moved beneath his fingers with every breath she took. “Back, side, together. Forward, side, together.” 

She nodded and he started to lead her backwards, but she stumbled away from him.

“Sorry, skirt’s too long without the shoes,” she explained. “Here.” She held up her skirt with her left hand and found her position again. He took her hand in his and accidentally smoothed his palm over her back. Her bare skin was cool under his touch, her eyes wide when he met her gaze again.

He began the step again and she followed along effortlessly. After a few repetitions, he began to travel in a wide circle across their driveway turned dance floor--the whole time staring into her eyes. He was looking at her too long, a small voice reminded him. But he didn’t want to look away.

He spun her away from him, that smile returning to her face, and brought her back to the square step again. 

“Is this your favorite part?” she asked, quietly. He nodded. It hadn’t been when the dance started, but--from the look in her eyes, to the moonlight on her hair, to the way she fit in his arms--it was now.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost half to himself. But she was close enough that she heard him.

Her eyebrows raised and she smiled lopsidedly. “For a human?”

“No, just… beautiful.”

Her eyes dropped and her cheeks tinged slightly pink. The song ended and regretfully, he dropped his arms. A smile appeared in her eyes when she looked back up at him.

“Thanks for showing me that, Garrus.”

“Of course.”

She picked up her shoes again and started to turn for the house, but then stopped and looked back at him.

“You… you’re very handsome as well.” She smiled again and then turned for the house.

For a long moment, it felt like he might float away. Then reality crashed back in and he stilled. This was a very dangerous game he was playing, for her, for him. And he wasn’t sure there was any winning this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are visual folks, their dance is based off the first part of the Laendler dance scene from Sound of Music. Because that *is* the most romantic dance scene ever committed to celluloid. Fact. <3, Kaitlyn


	30. Happy Accidents

Shepard frowned as she stepped back and looked at her cobbled together wreck of medium-density fibreboard. It did not at all look like the picture on the front of the box. The instruction booklet mocked her from where she’d tossed it further down the back deck when she’d opened the box two hours ago. She was an infiltrator, she could repair ground vehicles while under heavy fire without breaking a sweat. She certainly didn’t need patronizing instructions telling her that tab A went into slot B. All appearances to the contrary.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Maybe she could hide it tonight and then go back to the store tomorrow, buy another one and try again. However, her thought process was interrupted as the back door behind her opened.

“No!” she said, quickly positioning herself between Garrus and the accidental modern art sculpture.

“Nice to see you too,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. His brow plates quirked downward as he was obviously trying to piece together what was going on. 

She rolled her eyes. “Hi, welcome home.”

He leaned to see around her and his mandibles flickered in confusion. “What is that?”

She sighed and stepped to the side, letting him see her failure. “It… it was supposed to be an easel.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Terra Goods got a bunch of art supplies in. So I got this and some canvases and an instructional vid…”

“Why?”

“Your mom said that when you were a kid you liked to paint. So I thought that… I don’t know, maybe you’d like to paint again.”

He looked down at her with an expression that made her heart flutter suddenly. “You did this for me?”

“Well…” she started, oddly unwilling to look away from his eyes. “I didn’t even finish setting up the easel so… don’t be too flattered.”

He walked over to the pile of wood and she blinked a few times, realizing that she’d been staring. What was  _ that _ reaction about? 

“I think between the two of us we could probably put this thing together,” he said, examining the structure. He touched the top and a few boards came loose, clattering to the deck. “Where are the schematics?”

“We don’t  _ need _ instructions, Garrus.”

He looked between her and the easel a few times. He touched it again and a large section sloughed off the side.

“Fine,” she sighed and went to go get the instructions. 

Even with the instructions and two of the brightest military minds this side of the Citadel, it took them over an hour and they weren’t even halfway done. The sun had set and bugs fluttered around the deck lights they’d had to turn on to keep working.

Shepard stood up to stretch, a kink forming in her back from sitting on the hard ground for so long. Garrus was leaned over the table where the instructions were spread out, covered in both of their notes. He was muttering under his breath as he looked from the diagram to the real thing.

“Sorry I wound up getting you a puzzle rather than an easel,” she said, only half-joking. He looked briefly up at her, but it was enough to see the spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Are you kidding? I love puzzles,” he replied, smiling. “This is the best thing you could have gotten me.”

A bubbly feeling sprinkled up the back of her neck. She couldn’t quite put together a few words into a correct reply, so she nodded. He turned back to focus on the brace for the back. She watched him work for a bit, an unconscious smile stealing across her face. 

A whole second hour of assembling and finally they had a working easel. They celebrated with a drink of their respective chiralities as they admired their far-too hard work. 

“Thanks for the puzzle, Shepard,” he said with a smile as he looked down at her. “And the easel. I… haven’t painted in years. It’ll be fun to try again.”

“Guess you’ll have to wait till tomorrow to use it. I’m told light is very important to artists.” 

“That’s okay. It was fun getting to do this with you,” he said with his usual disarming honesty. She managed a breathless chuckle, a realization beginning to well under her feet. 

When they finished, he took her empty glass from her and headed back to the kitchen. She watched him go and though it was completely dark outside, it finally dawned.

_ Oh. _

She blinked a few times, her eyes wide. What in the… How in the…  _ When _ in the… 

“Are you planning on staring at our masterpiece all night, or can I turn off the lights?” Garrus’ voice made her literally jump. He chuckled from where he stood in the doorway behind her. “You okay?”

“Yep,” she managed, sounding oddly squeaky. “I’ll--I’ll get the lights.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Night…” She watched his retreating figure through the large windows. He gave her a wave before he headed up the stairs. She waved back.

Oh boy. She’d fallen for Garrus. This just became very complicated.

 

Garrus had long since had to acknowledge that his favorite part of the day was the moment he stepped back through his front door. As the familiar scents of home hit his nose, he automatically felt his shoulders relax and an unconscious smile stole across his face. It wasn’t that he hated his job, though trekking through mountains of paperwork wasn’t exactly thrilling. No, it was absolutely, one hundred percent due to who was there when he went home. 

“Shepard?” he said as he set his bag down in its spot next to the door. 

There was a vague grunt that came from the kitchen.

He frowned as he walked into the kitchen and found Shepard lying her back on the floor. She lifted a few fingers in a very casual greeting, as if what she was doing was remotely normal.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking her over. Her long red hair was fanned out over the white marble floor, looking almost deliberately arranged in a wide circle around her head.

“No.” She heaved a heavy breath. “I’m  _ bored _ .”

“Ah. I see now.” He sat down on the floor next to her. He had to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her hair. It was probably a rather intimate action, certainly was to touch a turian’s fringe. Though… he’d happily let Shepard touch his if she ever asked, he realized with a slight blush. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Probably not.”

“You sure about that?”

She frowned. “I just… I don’t know what to do with copious amounts of leisure time.”

“ _ Fleet and Flotilla _ ?” he suggested with a grin.

“I finished that.”

“All twenty-two seasons?”

“Yes!  _ And _ the spin offs too.”

“Damn, that was going to be my next suggestion,” he said teasingly, tapping a talon on one of his mandibles. She gave him a very nonplussed look and pressed her hands against her eyes. 

“I feel almost bad everytime I call up Sol, because half the reason I’m calling is just to get out of the house.”

Garrus leaned back on the cabinet and rested his elbows on his knees. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think she minds at all.”

Shepard sighed and sat up, leaning on the cabinet next to him and mirroring his posture. “I’ve never not had a job, you know?” she said in a lower tone, finicking with her nails. “I worked all through high school, did whatever I could for money even younger than that. And the Alliance sure as hell kept me busy.”

He looked over at her, studying her face. She didn’t seem sad, just resigned.

“Not that anyone would want to hire me anyway. I don’t exactly bring a lot of skills to the table, unless someone wants me to shoot something. And you’re the only person on the planet who would trust me with a gun.”

A thought occurred to Garrus as she sighed and shook her head.

“A job would go a long way to helping you feel like you  _ live _ here, rather than just are here,” he said, hoping that he was understanding what she meant.

She looked over at him and nodded. 

He flicked a mandible in a half-smile. “I think I have a solution, just have to call Sol first,” he said, standing up and opening his omnitool.

It turned out to be a very short call with Sol to have everything arranged in time for the next morning. Shepard was practically hopping from foot to foot as they both hurried around in the morning to leave on time. She smiled at him widely as they drove away from the house. The low pale-stoned building of Sol’s work came into view. And Garrus could see some apprehension settle into her shoulders.

“So what kind of shelter is it?” Shepard asked as she got out of the car. Garrus got out with her; he wanted to at least make sure that she found Sol before he left her for the day.

“A little bit of everything. They do meals, clinics, orphan care, night classes. There’s a wing for people to stay long-term if they can’t afford a place to stay,” he explained as they walked into the building. The place always reminded him a bit of school with the colorful kid artwork practically wallpapering the halls. Quite a few people were milling about for it being relatively early in the day. “There was a bit of a influx immediately after the war, but I think things have calmed down some since then.”

“Shepard!” Sol’s voice echoed down the hall. She waved to them from the far end as she signed something and then passed the datapad back to her assistant. “Hey, thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having me,” Shepard replied, smiling again. 

“So as a beginner volunteer you’ll be doing some pretty menial tasks,” Sol cautioned. “Important, but menial.”

“I do not care,” Shepard insisted with a wave of hand. “Give me a broom, give me a washcloth, just put me to work.”

Sol hummed happily. “That’s the type of attitude I like to see in my volunteers. Alright, you’re going to be in the kitchen today. Follow me. I’ll introduce you to kitchen ladies, you will love them.”

Shepard started following Sol a few steps down the hall.

“I’ll be back at 1900, okay?” Garrus called after them. Sol gave him a perfunctory nod. But Shepard turned around and quickly crossed back to him. Before he knew what was happening, she was hugging him, her arms around his neck. Carefully, he wrapped an arm about her middle and pressed the other against the back of her head.

“Thanks for this, Garrus,” she said before she stepped back. His subvocals almost started purring with warm appreciation, but he caught Sol’s eyes before they could really get going. He wound up making an embarrassing sort of choking noise that Shepard thankfully couldn’t hear. 

Shepard jogged back to Sol and they walked down the hall together. His sister looked back over her shoulder and give him a significant look before they turned the corner, eyebrows raised and a mandible twitching in a knowing smile. Sol always was too astute for her own damn good.


	31. Better Late

Shepard took in a deep breath as she got out of the car. The sun was just beginning to set behind the house, the heat of the day finally relenting. The only thing the summer evening was missing, she thought as she ascended the stairs, was cicadas screaming from the trees. She’d once tried to explain to Garrus why she was nostalgic for incessant insect noises, but it proved difficult to describe. She was pretty sure he thought her all the more strange for it.

She kicked off her shoes in the small pile that she’d been accumulating by the door. “Garrus?” she called out, poking her head into the living room. It was empty. Though as she turned around, she found a note stuck to the dining room door frame.  _ Dinner’s in the fridge. I’m on the deck. -G _

She pulled the note off the wall and walked into the kitchen, spotting Garrus indeed out on the back deck. He was sitting at their easel, painting something with a very stern expression. It was his Concentration Face. She hadn’t seen him use the easel yet, and admittedly it did make her very happy to see him using her gift to him. 

She hoped he wouldn’t mind company as she opened the fridge and found that he’d ordered her favorite meal from one of their preferred restaurants. She fought back a smile. It was these small gestures, reminders that he knew her and was looking out for her, that made her chest feel brightest. She snagged the book she’d been reading from the living room and headed out to the deck.

“Hey,” Garrus said, glancing up from his canvas. 

Shepard smiled at him. “Mind if I join you?” she asked, setting her meal and book down on the table in front of him. He didn’t say anything right away. “I… can go inside if you want--”

“No, no, that’s fine.” He shook his head quickly, mandibles flickering in insistence. “Ah, how was work?”

“Good. Still in the kitchen, but I was moved from pot scrubber to vegetable chopper.”

“A promotion already? You must know the right people,” he teased, picking up his brush again.

She chuckled and watched him work for a moment, opening up her meal container. “I thought turians were all about meritocracy, moving up based upon excellent work?”

“True, but no one’s good enough to make it all the way to  _ meal prep _ in their third week without having a little help.” He leaned over to look around the canvas and then disappeared behind it again.

“Am I in your view? I can move,” she said, noticing that he was looking in her direction.

“No, you’re fine.” 

She watched him repeat the motion, very suspicious that she was actually in the way. “Alright.” She picked up her book and flipped to the section she’d last left off on. For a few minutes they sat in comfortable quiet, only the occasional sound of a turning page or the stroke of a brush. It was nice just to be together even if they were both doing their own thing, Shepard thought.

“What are you reading?” Garrus asked after a while. He was squeezing paint onto his palette and nodded towards the book in her hands.

“Primarch Fedorian’s memoir,” she replied, holding up the cover so he could read it. He raised a brow plate at her.

“Is it any good?”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing for Palaven that the man can wage a war better than he can construct a paragraph,” she said, dryly.

“So why read it?” Garrus disappeared back behind his canvas.

“Well, I picked it up because I was curious what he had to say about First Contact… and to see if we were mentioned, honestly. But I’m almost done and there hasn’t been a single reference to the war at all.” She frowned down at the book.

“So what’s it even about if it’s not about Relay 314?”

“Defending various turian colonies from batarian pirates, mostly. Also, there was a whole chapter about him meeting with a consort on the Citadel, which was much less salacious than one would hope.”

Garrus chuckled as she dropped the book on the table top, not feeling like struggling through Fedorian’s clunky prose any more. She looked at the back of Garrus’ canvas and when he leaned around again, he made immediate eye contact with her.

“Are you painting me?” she accused. He disappeared behind his canvas again for a moment before sliding back out, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Not on purpose,” he justified. Right, like she’d believe that.

“You  _ accidentally _ painted me?”

“You sat down in the middle of my frame… and with you in it, it was more interesting than just the deck…” He sounded almost apologetic, so she decided to cut him a break. 

“Can I at least see how you’ve accidentally painted me?”

Alarm appeared in his features. “It’s… not very good.”

“I can guarantee you that it’s better than I could do,” she said with a teasing smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she added, picking up her book again.

There was a pause as she stared down at her page. 

“At least let me finish it first,” he finally said, quietly. She nodded and continued reading. It was different now, knowing that Garrus was looking at her, studying her. She became very conscious of how she was sitting, slouched down in one chair with her feet on another and the book resting on her knees. She tried to correct her posture, but a small noise from Garrus made her slump back down. Great, the only time she’d ever been painted in her life and she was going to have five chins.

She finished Fedorian’s book just before they ran out of enough light to see by. Her back was a little sore from sitting one way for so long. Frowning, Garrus set aside his brush and picked up his palette.

“Alright… It’s been a while, so just… keep that in mind,” he said before practically running for the kitchen to wash his tools. He obviously didn’t want to be there to see her initial reaction.

Shepard walked to the other side of the canvas and her mouth dropped open. His brushwork was loose, very impressionistic in style. But it was perfectly recognizable as their deck, and she thought the woman actually looked like her. Her profile was a little flatter than she thought it was in real life, and she wasn’t sure that her hair laid quite as artfully across her shoulders as he’d rendered it. But he got the color exactly right, she noted with a smile.

When she looked up, Garrus was hovering in the door.

“It’s really good,” she said, firmly.

“Really?” 

“Yes.” She looked back at the canvas, a smile reappearing. “It… really looks like me.”

He came to stand next to her to admire his work. Pride replaced worry in his eyes. 

“It’s not perfect… but it’s a start.” He looked over at her and gave her a quiet smile that she never wanted to go away.

“We should hang it in the living room,” she suggested. The smile dropped off his face, his posture immediately becoming stiff. “...the office?”

“I can live with that.” And the smile returned.

 

Garrus looked up from the computer as he heard a strange sound come from the bathroom behind him. It happened a few more times, a sharp noise. Almost as if a blade was cutting through thin chitin. Curious, he stood and went to investigate.

The door to the bathroom was open and Shepard was standing in front of the mirror. He watched her pick up a section of her hair and then, to his horror, she sliced off the end of it.

“What are you doing??” He stood frozen in the doorway. Bits of Shepard’s hair were scattered about the floor, bright red on light grey.

She jumped a little at his panicked tone, and then gave him an odd look. “I’m… cutting my hair?”

That made him stop. He’d heard her say that phrase before, just hadn’t ever understood it before now. “What?”

“Cutting my hair,” she said slowly. “The ends are dead, so I’m cutting them off. See?” She held out two sections of her hair. The end of one was rougher in texture, almost frayed, where the end of the other was flat and orderly.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice, feeling foolish.

She laughed a little. “What did you think I was doing?”

“I… I don’t know. I panicked.” 

“It’s not like your fringe, I promise,” she said with a smile. “The only nerve endings are at the scalp.”

She turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through her hair. She wasn’t cutting it as short as it was when they first met when it had barely brushed her shoulders. Now it flowed down past her shoulder blades and he was a little bit enchanted by the way it moved.

“Actually, would you be willing to help?” she asked, turning to look at him. He nodded. “I want to make sure the back is straight across, and it’s easier with a second set of eyes.”

“Sure.” He swallowed and nodded. She handed him the comb and turned away from him.

“So comb it flat and then take the scissors and trim off anything that’s not even with the rest.”

He hadn’t touched her hair since the interview. And he’d never really had the chance to study it so up close before. He realized her hair wasn’t just one color, but many different colors all gathered closely together. Deep mahogany, and bright copper, even some light brown and a few golden strands. He ran his palm over her hair to smooth it before picking up the scissors. They were a little small and unwieldy for him, but there was only one section of her hair that needed trimming. He winced as the blades cut through the strands, and the small clump fluttered to the floor harmlessly.

“See? Not so bad,” she said when he set the scissors back down. She shook out her hair, other loose hairs falling to the floor. “I was thinking that I’d cut it shorter than this, but… I don’t know. I kind of like it this length.”

“...Me too.”

She smiled.


	32. Thick and Thin

Shepard smiled as she passed under the blooming trees planted at the edge of the sidewalk. Delicate blossoms of white and blue decorated each branch, petals fluttering to the ground when the wind blew through them. It reminded her of the cherry trees in Stanley Park back in Vancouver. Palaven really was lovely in the spring, she thought as she pushed open the door to the very familiar shop. 

A bell jingled in the quiet space and Keslia looked up from the computer with a wide smile.

“Shepard!”

“Hi, Keslia.” The store always smelled amazing, Shepard could never figure out where it was coming from. Was it the fabrics? A candle? Or some sort of asari secret?

Keslia closed whatever program she was working on and focused on Shepard with laser precision. “How was the gala? Did the dress work out? Did your date like it?? Tell me everything. I want to know it all.” She leaned over the counter, resting her chin on her hands with her eyes wide in rapt attention.

Shepard chuckled a little, she’d never really had a friend like Keslia before. Of course, she hadn’t really ever wanted to comb over the details of an evening’s activities to tease out ulterior meanings in every phrase before. 

“The gala was…” As she thought about the gala, she wasn’t even able to stop her cheeks from turning pink. Damn her fair complexion. “The dress was perfect, you were absolutely right. Made my date speechless when he saw me.”

Keslia clapped her hands and beamed. “I knew it! Excellent.”

“ _ And _ shocked the hell out of the Primarch too.”

“Even better.”

“It was…” Shepard stopped as she tried to come up with a word that summarized the whole evening. The look in Garrus’s eyes as they danced came to mind, making her heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s. “Magical.”

Keslia gave her a very knowing smile. “Magical, you say?”

“Yeah.” Shepard fought back a grin and tried to find a bit of dignity. She was a hardened marine, a war hero. She wasn’t normally one for fluttery feelings at all. Just… there was something about Garrus that somehow had cracked through that shell. “Thank you for your help.”

“Gladly. Anytime,” she said, standing back up. “Were you looking for something in particular today?”

Shepard shook her head. “No, just thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“You’re always welcome for that too. Do you want some tea?”

“I would love some tea.”

Keslia waved Shepard into the backroom, which was smaller and much more messier than the front of the store. Boxes of uninventoried stock were stacked high along the back wall. Keslia was moving around a small counter, which was half covered in bits of thread and tags. Shepard sat down on a sturdy looking crate, deciding that staying out of the way was the more useful option.

“So what was his name?” Keslia asked as she set some water to boil. 

“Pardon?”

“Your  _ magical _ date.” She looked over her shoulder at her and then turned back to scoop some mix into two cups. “You’ve never told me his name.”

“Oh. Garrus. Major Garrus Vakarian.”

Keslia’s practiced movements paused for a moment, then resumed. “How’d you meet him?”

“Well, he’s… He’s actually my mate. So we met because of the war, I guess you could say.” 

Keslia turned to look at her. “ _ Oh _ . I probably should have put it together that you were the one… that’s very obvious, isn’t it?”

Shepard lifted her shoulders noncommittally. “Why else did you think I was here on Palaven?”

Keslia turned back as the water started boiling and poured it into the cups. “People come to Palaven for all sorts of reasons.” 

She handed a cup to Shepard and sat down on the crate opposite from her, where she could still be in view of the front door. Shepard took the first sip. It burned her tongue a little, but her chest filled again with the same wonderful warmth. Damn, this stuff was good.

“So what brought you to Palaven?” Shepard asked, stirring her tea to cool it.

“I had a better head for business that I did dance moves,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “My mother always said it was because of my volus father.”

Shepard coughed as she accidentally inhaled some tea. “Your father’s a volus?” 

Keslia nodded. “He wooed my mother by bringing her flowers everyday for six months. Mom was a little miffed when she found out that Dad  _ owned _ a flower shop at the time. Leave it to a volus to be economical in romance, she said.

“It was my idea to start a store on Palaven for asari, and Dad helped me with initial start up. It took a while, but now that the store is a success he keeps trying to convince me to sell it. Use the money to start another venture.”

Shepard sipped her tea; it was almost cinnamon in flavor. But without the burn that strong cinnamon usually had. And something else… cardamom perhaps. “So why haven’t you?”

“I almost did… about three years ago. But… I met someone worth staying on Palaven for.”

“Oh?” Shepard asked, borrowing teasing Keslia’s tone from earlier.

Keslia gave her a wistful smile. “It didn’t work out between us. I suppose that might be an even better reason to sell and move, but I…” She sighed and shook her head. “Two years might seem like a long time to be holding on for you, but when you live to be a thousand… well… Time’s a little different for us.”

Shepard hummed and nodded. “I can imagine… we must seem so small to you.”

Keslia was quiet for a moment, reflecting. “Actually, you seem like supernovas. You all burn so big, so bright, and leave such an impact in such a short time. It’s astounding, truly.” 

“Well… I’m glad you haven’t decided to sell yet. It would have been a lot harder to be on Palaven if I didn’t know you, Keslia.”

Her pretty blue face lit up with a slow smile. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Shepard.”

“Me too.” She took another sip of her tea. “Am I good enough friends to get the recipe for this tea yet?”

“Not quite.”

“Damn.”

 

_ Mom’s having a bad day today. Can you stop by and see her? _ Garrus read the brief message from Sol over and over as he fielded paperwork from across the galaxy for Terra Goods. 

That was the strangest thing about his mother’s prolonged illness. It hung around long enough that they all got used to it, like ugly colored curtains. It was horrifying, all consuming at the first diagnosis. Every conversation became fraught with emotion and fear that it might be the last. Wills were signed, final trips arranged. But it’s impossible to stay braced for impact forever. Eventually, Corpalis faded into the background of their lives. As much a part of it as the ugly curtains in the den. The new normal. However, every once in a while it raised its head and reminded them all of exactly what they were living with. And what the eventual cost would be. Garrus couldn’t help but notice that those times were coming closer and closer together as the months clicked by. The hourglass was running out.

So when he got the message from Sol, Garrus quickly finished what he had to for the day and set everything else aside for tomorrow. It’d be a long day tomorrow, but it didn’t matter. 

He hailed a cab to the hospital, happy that he’d managed to sneak out with almost the entire afternoon still ahead of him. It’d been too long since he’d spent time with his mother, he realized as he watched Cipritine zip past. There were plenty of excuses to pick from, but he knew that really it was often just because he was scared to see what the difference was from the last time he saw her. That had to stop, he thought as he walked through the busy floors to her room at the end of the hall.

But he halted just outside her door. Despite the consistent noise of the hospital, he could swear he heard someone talking inside his mother’s room. Lately, a bad day meant she wasn’t speaking. Curious, he opened the door. Garrus stared at the scene before him, surprised into silence.

“‘If I had been the boy you sent for,’ said Anne wistfully, ‘I’d be able to help you so much now and spare you in a hundred ways. I could find it in my heart to wish I had been, just for that,’” Shepard read. 

She was sitting on the foot of Mom’s bed reading from that book she’d said was her favorite. Mom was sitting up, staring at Shepard. She probably wasn’t comprehending a word Shepard said, but Shepard didn’t seem to mind. She just turned the page and continued.

“‘Well now, I’d rather have you than a dozen boys, Anne,’ said Matthew patting her hand. ‘Just mind you that—rather than a dozen boys. Well now, I guess it wasn’t a boy that took the Avery scholarship, was it? It was a girl—my girl—my girl that I’m proud of.’ He smiled his shy smile at her as he—’”

Shepard stopped when she happened to glance up. She gave him a quiet smile and then turned to Mom. 

“Galena, Garrus is here.”

A moment too slow, Mom turned to look at him. She blinked once, twice and then a slow smile appeared on her face.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, walking over and gently touching his forehead to hers for a moment. She stared up at him, still smiling, though her eyes seemed distant. He wished he hadn’t noticed. Growing up, his mother was the smartest person he knew. He was always so impressed when they’d go grocery shopping and she could tell him what the total would be before the cashier could. They’d all stood helplessly by and watched her illness take it away from her bit by bit.

He forced himself to set that aside and look to Shepard. “How long have you been here?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “A couple hours.” She said it so casually, as if it was a common occurrence. “Normally, Sol comes too, but she has some big inspection coming up for the shelter and couldn’t get away today. So it was just the two of us for lunch.”

A light clicked on. “This is where you and Sol come for lunch?”

“We usually bring lunch, but yes.” Her gaze shifted back to Mom. “Though you seemed to like the cafeteria lunch today, right, Galena?”

Mom looked pleasantly at the two of them and didn’t reply. Garrus fought to keep the frown off his face.

“I can give you two privacy, if you want,” Shepard offered him in a lower tone. When he looked to her, she was watching him carefully. He had the distinct impression that she knew exactly how he was feeling.

“No, that’s okay. I’m sure Mom wants to hear the rest of the story. Do you want Shepard to keep reading, Mom?” He searched his mother’s face, looking for something. Even a flicker of acknowledgment would have been a triumph. But her expression was placid, tranquil.

He felt Shepard gently touch his arm and give it a gentle squeeze. He covered her hand with his for a moment and nodded. “I think that’s a yes,” he said, fighting very hard to hold his subvocals in check. He turned and pulled up a chair near to the bed.

Shepard looked at him for a moment, then turned back to her book. “Alright. Where were we… ah. ‘He smiled his shy smile at her as he went into the yard. Anne took the memory of it with her when she went to her room that night and sat for a long while at her open window, thinking of the past and dreaming of the future.’” 

Garrus let himself watch his mother as Shepard read. Were her plates paler than when he last saw her? It seemed as though her purple markings were more sharply contrasted than he remembered. But perhaps he was just imagining things. Mom wasn’t like this all the time, he reminded himself. This was just a very bad day. She’d be better tomorrow. Shepard might have to reread this whole chapter again, but hopefully she wouldn’t mind. No, she definitely wouldn’t mind.

He watched Shepard read to his mother. He found himself without words that Shepard was here. Shepard was acting like a sister to Sol, a daughter to Galena. She was… part of his family. This was what being a bondmate truly was, he realized. Not just dancing under the moonlight, but being part of a family. They were lucky that Shepard was part of theirs, he thought as she continued to read. 

“‘Anne always remembered the silvery, peaceful beauty and fragrant calm of that night. It was the last night before sorrow touched her life; and no life is ever quite the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it.’”


	33. Where the Heart is

Shepard jumped down the last few steps, a hair tie between her teeth and her hands full of a half-finished french braid.

“Coffee?” Garrus asked as she entered the kitchen. He was already holding out a travel mug prepped just as she liked it: two sugars, no milk. She smiled around the hair tie and nodded to the counter in front of her. He set down the mug and turned back to finish preparing his own cup. 

Now that she had a job as well, their morning routine had adapted. Bathroom schedules had been drafted, and they switched off making the mandatory caffeinated beverages. Even in the bleary morning rush, they worked well together. 

She finished her braid and threw it back over her shoulders as she grabbed a nutrition bar from the cabinet. When she turned back around, Garrus pulled his gaze away a moment too late. He’d been looking at her… he’d been doing that a lot lately, she thought; stealing secret glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. It took more self-control than she wanted to admit to not focus in on that fact and dissect every bit of minutae about it. Instead, she headed towards the front door and sipped her coffee.

“Any big plans today?” Shepard asked, walking down the front steps. Garrus was a few steps behind her, juggling his bag, a few datapads, and his own mug. 

“At work, no,” he said, obviously struggling. 

Her eyebrows quirked at his phrasing. “And after…?” She took the cup from him without his asking, and set it in the cupholder in the car.

He glanced at her as he got in the driver’s seat, mischief hiding in his eyes. It was an unfortunately attractive expression on him, she thought as she got in and they drove off. Then again she found most of his expressions unfortunately attractive these days. It was almost like she liked him or something… unfortunately. Who knew having a crush on one’s husband would be so inconvenient?

“According to your omni-calendar, your evening today is free. Would you characterize it as such?” he asked instead.

She chuckled. “I feel like I’m being interrogated. I swear, Officer, it’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend.”

“Please just answer the question, ma’am. And stick to the facts,” he replied in a mock stern tone. 

She grinned at him. “I know my rights, flat-foot. Come back with a warrant.”

“You’re a little too good at this.”

“Not my first run in with the long arm of the law,” she said, nonchalantly sipping her coffee and enjoying his mildly impressed expression. “But in answer to your question, yes. I have no plans this evening.”

“Well, now you do. And I’ll pick you up for them at 1900.”

She looked at him for a moment, hoping for more explanation. But he was blatantly Not Looking at her. “Are you going to tell me what the plans are, or…?”

He shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“See, now I’m worried. Typically, us ex-military types don’t like surprises.” Despite how much she wheedled him for the rest of the drive, he refused to give up one more iota of information. All too soon the shelter came into view and Garrus pulled up next to the curb.

He grinned at her, thoroughly enjoying her annoyance. “Don’t you trust me, Shepard?”

Shepard let out a breath and rolled her eyes, but nodded. “I guess so…” He leaned across and opened the door for her.

“Then have a good day at work and I’ll see you at 1900,” he said, sounding exceedingly self-satisfied.  

She gave him one last unamused look and got out of the car. “Fine, see you at 1900,” she said, before spinning on her heel to head into the building. Thankfully, no one was around to see the wide smile steal across her face or how long it took for it to go away.

 

A smile crept across Garrus’ face as he turned the corner and saw Shepard waiting out on the curb at 1900 exactly. She gave him a suspicious look, which only made him chuckle as he stopped in front of her.

“Will you tell me now?” she asked even before she was fully seated. 

“I  _ was _ thinking I could just show you.” And that was all he told her till they arrived at their usual spot at the top of the valley. The sun was just a thin strip of glowing orange at the horizon, the world around them shaded in purples and blues.

Shepard got out of the car and went to stand near the edge, admiring the view. Garrus hung back, watching her run her fingers through her hair to undo the braid. Suddenly, he felt nervous. He tried to rationalize, logic himself out of it. What could possibly go wrong, he reasoned with himself. Everything, he thought as Shepard turned back to give him a smile.

“So not that I don’t love coming here, because I do, but you could have just told me that the surprise was going to the valley,” she said, coming to stand next to him by the car.

“Ah, well, this isn’t the surprise. It’s part of it, but ah--not the… not the… whole… thing.” Pull it together, Vakarian, you haven’t even gotten to the important part. “Do you know what today’s date is?”

She thought for a moment. “The twenty-ninth?”

He nodded. “I discovered in my research for Terra Goods that humans like to celebrate important dates when they come around again in subsequent years. And since today’s the twenty-ninth that makes this--”

“Our first anniversary,” she finished, sounding a little awed. She breathed a laugh. “I… didn’t even think about that.”

“I thought you might have forgotten. My research was a little unclear as to precisely what human couples  _ do _ on their anniversaries--”

Shepard gave a small high-pitched laugh and looked away. He was confused for a moment, then the penny dropped.  _ Oh _ . Carefully, he side-stepped around that and continued speaking quickly.

“But I thought that having dinner out here at the valley would be nice.”

The elated expression in her eyes made his subvocals go a little haywire for a moment, a high-pitched trill of satisfaction at pleasing her escaped him. Thank the spirits she couldn’t hear him; it was his one shred of consolation.

However, having dinner with Shepard in one of his favorite spots in the galaxy didn’t do Garrus any favors, sub-vocals wise. He was very content to hear about her day, the hijinks in the kitchen; she seemed to light up as she reminisced about old stories with her squad. He tried to keep a handle on what he was subvocally telling her, but it proved to be difficult to fight what he felt so strongly. He hadn’t been like this around a girl since… crap, he’d never been like this around a girl. 

Garrus was pulled away from his internal struggle when Shepard laughed lightly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

She looked over at him and shook her head a little. “I was just thinking about after the wedding... When I carried you into the house? You were so mad.”

He chuckled. He’d been absolutely furious if he remembered right. His new human mate carrying him into the house was the final straw. “I was. I was also terrified of you during the bonding ceremony.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“I knew what Flaming Death was capable at close quarters. I didn’t exactly look forward to being in unsupervised locations with her.”

Shepard laughed. “When we first found out that Archangel was going to be my husband… well, let’s just say it was a good thing that Anderson was off camera. Looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. ...I wasn’t too far off myself.”

He stared at her for a moment, absolutely shocked. “Really?”

“I knew who Archangel was, we all did. The phantom sniper of the Hierarchy, you’ll never know if he’s there because you’ll already be dead. Half the ground troops I talked to were convinced you were a myth; the other half knew better and were scared shitless.”

“Which half were you?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She just smiled slyly and looked away, answering and not answering all at the same time. He chuckled; a very Shepard move of her. She leaned back on her hands and looked out at the darkening landscape.

“It’s crazy how… different this place feels now,” she mused. “A year ago, I thought Palaven was hideously ugly… But I was just seeing what it was missing, rather than the life that is here.”

“Well, that’s certainly understandable,” he murmured after a moment.

She hummed a little. “I suppose. It’ll never be Earth.” She took a breath and shrugged her shoulders, almost as if she was deciding something for herself. “But that doesn’t mean that it couldn’t ...become home in its own way,” she finished softly.

“Shepard,” he said quietly. She turned to look at him. Now was as good a time as any, he thought. He hadn’t just brought her out here for dinner and to spend time with her. He had a plan. Maybe if she could change her mind about Palaven, she could change her mind about him too. He certainly hoped so. Steeling his will, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask--”

His omnitool beeped with an incoming call. He denied the call without looking at it. Okay, a little rocky. But salvageable. He took a breath to try and pick up where he left off.

“I just wanted to say that I--”

The omnitool beeped again with another call. He silenced it again and Shepard had a wry smile on her face.

“You can get that if you want,” she said, sounding amused.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Pull it together and just ask her to dinner, Vakarian. “Shepard, I wanted to ask you to--”

Now Shepard’s omnitool pinged with a message. She glanced down at it momentarily and then frowned.

“It’s from Sol,” she said, opening the message. Garrus glanced at his missed calls, they were both from Sol as well. Shepard gasped softly and then turned her arm so he could read the message. It felt like the world dropped out from under his feet.

_ Are you with Garrus? You both need to get to the hospital  _ NOW _. _


	34. Here we Stand or Here we Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chapter 33 was updated with new content, so make sure you don't skip it. <3, K

The drive from the valley to the hospital was dead silent as night fell on Palaven. Shepard took every road and turn as fast as she dared, and while they made it back to Cipritine in record time, it still felt like far too long. She ran after Garrus as he bolted down the halls, not stopping till they reached the room number Sol had sent them. 

This floor was busier than Galena’s usual room, the walls between the rooms and the hall almost entirely glass. Monitors beeped from every open doorway, doctors and nurses moved with grave efficiency. Sol was pacing in front of a room about halfway down the hall.

“Sol!” Garrus said, his heightened emotions evident in even the single syllable. 

She looked up, relief washing over her face. “Thank the Spirits, you’re here.” They gripped each other in a fierce embrace. 

Shepard looked into the room they were standing outside of. The lights inside were dimmed, just a single lamp on the table next to the bed where Galena lay. Castis was sitting beside her, holding her hand and talking to her. She couldn’t tell if Galena was speaking back. From the look on Castis’ face, probably not.

Sol was speaking to Garrus in a very low halting tone that Shepard’s translator didn’t pick up till she stepped closer to them.

“--organ failure. It’s… it’s not something that they can fix,” she said, her eyes downcast. Garrus stiffened, his hands curling into fists, and nodded once. 

For not the first time, Shepard cursed the fact that she couldn’t hear their subvocals, let alone understand them. She’d know how to help if she could. To her eyes, it looked like the siblings were standing in stoic silence when she knew that that wasn’t the case. It left her feeling impotent and imposing.

Garrus walked into Galena’s room after a moment and Shepard stayed with Sol out in the hall. They stood side by side and watched him sit down next to the bed, opposite of Castis, and take Galena’s hand. Shepard glanced up at Sol.

“Can… can I get you anything?” she asked quietly. Sol looked down, almost as if she was surprised that Shepard was there.

“No, I’m okay.” She reached over and took Shepard’s hand, giving it a squeeze. For that brief moment, Shepard felt Sol’s subvocals, powerful and thrumming. It almost knocked the breath out of her. She didn’t know precisely what they meant, though she could hazard a guess.

They looked over as both Garrus and Castis stood and left the room a few seconds later. Castis gave Shepard a glance and a nod before taking up post next to his daughter. 

Garrus touched Shepard’s shoulder. “She wants to talk to you,” he said in a low tone.

She stared at him for a moment; he didn’t say what she thought he said… did he? But he stepped aside and held the door open for her. Screwing up her courage, Shepard stepped into the quiet room and the door shut behind her.

The air was quieter in here. Just the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and the rhythmic hissing of the oxygen tank filled the space. Galena lay listlessly on the bed, her head turned away from the door. Shepard walked in slowly and sat down in the seat Castis had just vacated.

“Hi, Galena,” she said, softly. Galena’s eyes opened and a mandible flicked out in a half-smile.

“Shepard,” she said, warmly. “You made it.”

She nodded and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Garrus and I were all the way out in the valley when Sol called us. Came back as fast as we could.”

“He took you to the valley?”

“Yeah, we’ve been there a lot actually. He… he showed me where you used to camp. A-and where you and Castis decided to become bondmates.”

Galena frowned a little, then nodded. “Right, yes,” she said softly. 

Pushing past that, Shepard continued. “You were right, it’s--it’s absolutely breathtaking at sunset.”

She smiled and let out a low breath. “Good. I’m glad he took you.” She pointed to the table next to her bed. On it was Shepard’s copy of  _ Anne of Green Gables _ that she’d taken to leaving in Galena’s room.

“Castis brought this down from my old room. I wanted you to have it back.”

Shepard gave her a shaking smile and picked up the book, running a hand over the familiar cover.

Galena reached and tapped the front cover. “Tell me, how does it end?” she asked softly.

Shepard gritted her teeth and did everything in her power to keep her voice steady. “Anne gives up her scholarship so she can stay with Marilla after Matthew dies. And Gilbert gives up his teaching position at the school for Anne so she can teach nearer to Marilla, and that makes Anne and Gilbert true friends--”

“Bosom friends,” Galena quoted. Shepard laughed a little. It was an interesting conversation to try to explain that phrase to a turian.

“Yeah, bosom friends.” She looked down at the book. “Eventually, Anne and Gilbert fall in love and get married and have seven children.”

Galena was quiet for a few seconds. “Are they happy?”

Shepard paused. Somehow, and she had no idea how she knew, but somehow it felt like Galena wasn’t asking about the characters in the book. “...Yes. Th--they’re happy.”

“Good.” She look in a slow breath. “Will you read me the chapter you read the other day? I want to hear it again.”

Shepard nodded and flipped through the book to the thirty-sixth chapter. “‘On the morning when the final results of all the examinations were to be posted on the bulletin board at Queen’s…’"

It was helpful to be able to step into the familiar words even for just a moment. It allowed Shepard a breather to try and gather herself. Galena was always looking at her with a quiet smile whenever she glanced up at her. Shepard had never read aloud to anyone before she started reading for her. Galena was always the best listener, asking questions and watching encouragingly. A brief thought that this was probably the last time she’d get to do this made Shepard’s eyes prick uncomfortably. She shoved it down so she could continue reading.

“‘Well now, I’d rather have you than a dozen boys, Anne,’ said Matthew patting her hand. ‘Just mind you that—rather than a dozen boys. Well now, I guess it wasn’t a boy that took the Avery scholarship, was it? It was a girl—my girl—my girl that I’m proud of.’”

“My girl that I’m proud of,” Galena repeated. Shepard looked up and set the book aside. The time for reading was over; there was no more avoiding what was really happening. Galena held out her hand and Shepard took it, holding it as tightly as she dared. Galena’s subvocals were weak but continuous. “I want you to know, I’m proud of you, Shepard.”

For a moment, it felt like Shepard couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure if Galena understood just how easily and thoroughly she had cut to her core. There were hardly words to describe it. She took in a shuddering breath and nodded. She couldn’t trust herself to speak just yet, knowing that the words would come out shaking and watery.

Galena looked towards the door. Castis stood by the door like a sentinel, staring down anyone who passed by. Sol was pacing back and forth while Garrus was sitting on the floor, a hand pressed to his forehead. “You’re good for them. For  _ all _ of them.” She turned back to look at her, a different look in her eyes. Authoritative, despite everything. “They’re going to need you now more than ever. Take care of them, Shepard… consider that an order.”

Shepard swallowed hard and nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Galena waved Shepard closer and then gently touched her forehead to hers. “I’m so glad that you’re one of my daughters,” she whispered.

That broke her. A tear escaped Shepard’s eye, quickly followed by another. “I…” She took a steadying breath so she could get out this sentence. “I thought I’d never have a mom, but… You--You were worth the wait.”

She touched Shepard’s cheek, wiping away a few more tears. Shepard squeezed her hand and nodded once.

She smiled softly. “We should probably let my Castis come back in, so he doesn’t have to keep listening at the door,” she said, just loud enough that Shepard knew Castis heard.

Shepard nodded and stood; Castis returned to his seat before she even left the room. Sol and Garrus looked to her when she stepped back out in the hall. Sol gave her a quick comforting smile before following her father. 

Garrus stood and touched her shoulder, his subvocals the same as Sol’s earlier. He looked at her with concern.

“I’m fine. Go,” she said, nodding back to the room. He nodded once and then followed after Sol.

Shepard clutched the book to her chest and watched the family through the window. No, not the family-- _ her _ family. The only family she’d ever known. She ached for them, for what they were about to suffer. It felt overwhelming to look at the scope of the blow they were all about to take.

But she had orders. And she would not fail her mother now. Shepard would take care of them. All of them. 

First, she had to figure out how. So she stepped away, and opened up her omnitool. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to find out about turian burial and mourning practices. Dealing with grieving would be more difficult, but perhaps the hospital had resources for that too. Human ones did, and Palaven wasn’t that different in many respects.

Shepard wound up walking the halls of the hospital as she researched, always circling back around to the room as the hours ticked by. Castis, Sol, and Garrus’ positions would shift, but overall the three of them stood patiently watch as a new day began. 

It was very, very early in the morning when Shepard finally gave up walking and sat down in the lobby at the end of the hall. She didn’t want to be in the way, and her joints were starting to feel achy from the lack of sleep. The lobby was otherwise empty at this hour, thankfully. So when she heard footsteps slowly approach, she looked up.

Garrus stood in the doorway. His gaze was hollow and empty. Shepard quickly stood and crossed to him, gripping her hands together tightly to keep them from flying about uselessly. He looked like he was trying to say something, but she already knew.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

 

Please, spirits. No.


	35. History won't Care at All

Shepard stared at the dark ceiling of the living room, the unlit chandelier above her kept tinkling as it moved. Being only one floor above Garrus, she could hear his every hit on the punching bag in the gym below. Her eyes felt grainy as she forcibly blinked and checked the time on her omnitool. They’d be leaving for the Vakarian house for an entire week in six hours. Garrus should sleep at least a little before starting this Vigil for his mother. He shouldn’t begin on empty. He’d been down in the gym ever since they returned from the hospital; surely he had to be getting tired.

Sighing, she stood up and cautiously went downstairs. The lights of the gym felt glarey and frigid after the dark of the living room. Garrus was in the far corner on the other side of the mat, beating the absolute shit out of the punching bag. His breathing was heavy; she could hear it from all the way across the room. But he kept going, keeping the same steady rhythm he’d had for hours. 

“Garrus,” she said, softly. He didn’t react.

She approached him from behind, still giving him space. “Garrus,” she said, a little louder this time. She knew he’d heard her this time. She frowned and stood behind the punching bag, grabbing it to stop its momentum with her body. “Garrus, you’ve been at this for hours. You have to stop.”

He resolutely did not look at her, just shook his head and punched again. She could feel the force reverberate through her chest.

“You have to sleep.” 

“Not… tired,” he managed between heavy breaths. 

She stepped back from the punching bag and he doubled his speed somehow.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she said, keeping her tone level.

He growled and struck the bag with a wide swing. The seams burst and filling fell to the floor. Shepard watched the piling sand with a quiet sigh. Garrus, however, just took a deep breath and turned, obviously heading for the weight bench. She had to intervene.

She stepped into his path. “Garrus, no.” 

“Move,” he said simply.

“You can’t keep this up.”

“Watch me.” And he side-stepped around her.

Grappling for something to stop him, she reached out and hit the back of his shoulder, catching his attention. “You want to burn off energy? Fine. Let’s spar.” Maybe not exactly what he needed, but it was better than what he wanted. Her pajamas were basically work out clothes anyway. And this way she could supervise him at least a little bit.

He looked at her for a moment; his breath mercifully slowing. It seemed like he didn’t believe her offer.

She took advantage of his pause and lightly jabbed him again in the arm, bouncing from foot to foot. He looked down at where she’d touched him.

“Come on, Vakarian.” She held up her fists. “Show me what you got.”

“You could get hurt.”

“I was the best CQC specialist the Alliance had. I’ll be fine.” She ducked in and landed another blow on his left side. Not enough to bruise or even hurt, but just enough to goad. He stood still, watching her. 

She stepped in to jab again and his foot slid back a step, mirroring her movement. She stepped back, maintaining a ready posture and waited for him to attack. She didn’t have to wait very long. 

He reached out towards her with a hit aimed for her shoulder that she easily blocked. He wasn’t taking this very seriously, but at least he was participating. She danced back further onto the mat, out of his reach. He followed, carefully studying her every move.

He lunged an arm out and instinct kicked in. She sidestepped, wrapping an arm at his right shoulder and placing a foot on his hip. Her other leg swung up around his left shoulder. Using her momentum, she pulled him down and flipped him over herself. She jumped back up to standing as he laid flat on the mat. All those hours of Krav Maga training suddenly paid off as she looked down at his dazed expression.

“Yield?” she asked. 

He growled and jumped back up as well, not waiting this time. She wasn’t able to block his blow and it struck her squarely in the shoulder. It stung, but he was definitely capable of more. Though she doubted that he was even physically capable of giving his best right now anyway.

They traded blows back and forth, circling. Occasionally pressing the advantage or feinting back as needed. Even with almost three hours of rigorous work out in his belt, he was able to keep up with her, though she could definitely see his edges fraying. He was holding it together, but only just.

She launched a quick series of blows at his sides, several of which he blocked but most of which he missed. She didn’t hold as much back and she knew the last one had to hurt. He was starting to slip. But then he swept a leg and her feet were knocked out from under her.

“Yie--” was all he got out before she’d hooked her feet behind his knees and pulled. He didn’t fall all the way, but it gave her enough time to roll over her shoulder to standing. There was a pause as she waited for him to strike again.

However, he didn’t so much strike as outright tackle her, inelegant but effective. The wind was knocked out of her as she hit the mat and several hundred pounds of turian hit her immediately after. She wrapped her legs about his middle and shoved, switching their positions and trying to pin him. But he grabbed her wrists and switched them again, pinning her to the mat with the force of his body weight. She struggled to break free, but then she felt something new.

Garrus’ subvocals were going stronger than she’d ever felt before. She tried to turn to see his face, but it was pressed into the mat above her shoulder. She stilled beneath him. He stayed like that for a full minute, then let go of her wrists and sat up. She knew turians weren’t physically capable of shedding tears but Garrus looked as close as he could possibly get. He was breathing heavily, a low steady keen came from his chest, and his fists were balled against his thighs.

She sat up as well. Unsure of what to do, she tentatively reached out to him. Her hand landed on the side of his carapace and she felt the subvocals again. Ragged, hollow, and aching. Based on nothing but empathetic instinct, Shepard encircled him in her arms as best she could and pulled Garrus in for an unfamiliar embrace. 

His arms wrapped about her, clutching her to him with the desperation of a drowning man. His face buried into the crook of her neck. His subvocals reverberated through her bones. His knees raised behind her, cradling her closer still as he curled around her. Her arms slipped up around his neck and she tried to hum soothingly. But her throat had grown thick and tears rolled down her own cheeks.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was going through. So she offered no words. She knew that none would even begin to make things right. This hurt went far, far too deep, past logic and past reason. It was the kind of hurt that someone could lose themselves in if they weren’t careful, if they didn’t have someone to watch their back. So she waited with him, ready to bring him back to the surface when he was ready.

They stayed locked for a long while, letting his despair and their shared grief pour through them. Slowly, eventually, his subvocals calmed, growing quieter and quieter, till just the faint buzz of the lightbulbs overhead could be heard. He took a deep breath and loosened his grip around her, but didn’t fully let go. She leaned back and carefully peered into his face. His eyes were clearer now, but etched with exhaustion. She touched his cheek, her thumb stroking gently across the textured planes and colony markings. 

He held her gaze for a long, long moment. Then slowly, he tilted his forehead till it rested against hers. She’d never really appreciated how blue his eyes were till that moment as they stared back at her, still filled with emotion and barely an inch away. They both closed their eyes and remained connected, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

Shepard waited till he opened his eyes again before she spoke. “Should get some sleep,” she whispered.

He nodded, his forehead still pressed against hers.

“Come on,” she said, quietly. Slowly, she extracted herself from his embrace and stood up. She helped him to standing. Bracing an arm around his waist while his rested on her shoulders, they went upstairs. The bedroom was mercifully dark when they entered and according to the clock on the nightstand they still had four hours before they had to leave.

Shepard made sure that Garrus wasn’t going to fall over before she stepped away from him and pulled the blankets back on the bed. He sat on the bed with a soft thud, a long breath leaking out of him. Knowing that he’d be sore in the morning, she went to the bathroom and got a glass of water and some pain killers. She set them on the nightstand.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, watching her movements. She nodded and finally he laid down, sinking down into the pillows. She made sure that he was comfortable before turning to go. 

But then his hand wrapped around her wrist. She turned back to look at him. His face was covered in shadow and his voice was low when he spoke. “Will you stay?”

She nodded and he let go of her wrist. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she went to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers. As she sat on the edge, she realized that she hadn’t been in this bed since her first night on Palaven exactly one year ago. 

Carefully, she slipped beneath the blanket and immediately slid to connect with Garrus in the middle. She took a moment to adjust her positioning, but the contact wasn’t unpleasant now. He was very warm, which was nice after the cold air of the basement, and decidedly solid. She found a position on her side facing him that didn’t feel like she was drowning in cushion. She watched him for a few minutes to make sure that he was at least resting. It seemed like he was, finally. Slowly, her eyes drifted shut and she fell asleep too.

 

Garrus hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep till he was waking up. He blinked a few times, the earliest hints of morning sun were just starting to lighten the bedroom. He was in bed, though he didn’t really remember getting here. Every single part of him ached. So much so that he almost just went back to sleep to put off dealing with it. 

But then something soft yet solid brushed against his side and his eyes fully opened. He looked down to realize that Shepard was asleep in the bed with him and, even more startling, that sometime in the night they had started holding each other. Instinctively, he pulled back. She made a small noise and unconsciously closed the distance between the two of them, her hand brushing against his side again.

Pieces of last night began to filter back in and he was able to put together approximately what had happened only a few hours ago. Spirits. He’d done even more than just hold her all night long. He’d wept in her arms. He’d completely fallen apart, yet she’d held him together. He’d… Did she know what touching foreheads meant to a turian? Was it bad if she didn’t? Was it worse if he didn’t regret it one single bit? Some part of him wanted to just extract himself from this, save what was left of his dignity, and pretend that the night before hadn’t happened at all.

But the larger part of him never wanted to leave. He revelled in how soft she was against him, how her salt and soap scent surrounded him. Her red hair was fanned out over the pillow. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she slept. The memory of how piercing her green eyes were last night was burned into his mind. Watching her sleep in his arms made the waters of his grief receded slightly, at least to where it didn’t feel like he was drowning in them.

He didn’t get a chance to decide to stay or go before her omnitool started beeping with an alarm. A frown appeared on her face and she groaned, her arm flexing to stop the noise. For a moment, he wondered if she’d gone back to sleep. But then she stretched and he held his breath as her eyes cracked open.

Her frown deepened and she quickly surveyed her surroundings. She blinked a few times when she met his gaze. Then her memories caught up with her and she relaxed again.

“Morning,” she said simply, as if it was a normal occurrence for her to wake up cuddled with a turian.

“Morning.” He frowned. Perhaps she was only doing this out of some sort of sense of obligation, or a concession to make up for his pain. 

“How are… never mind.” She shook her head and lifted her arm to check the time. “We need to get going, if we’re going to make it to the house in time.”

“In time?”

“Vigil starts at dawn?” 

He wondered how she knew that, then he wondered how she knew about vigil at all. He highly doubted the Alliance knew about the week long grieving ritual. Where she’d picked up the finer points of turian mourning practices he wasn’t quite sure, especially the archaic rule of the dawn start. 

“We can be late. It’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. Only the most staunch of traditionalists held onto the dawn rule. And besides that, going to vigil meant diving back into the tumultuous waters of emotions. He already felt tired enough as it was. And only partially from his strenuous work out the night before.

As if she could read his mind, Shepard sat up with some difficulty and grabbed the medicine she’d set out the night before. She held it out to him and he took it gratefully, greedily drinking the entire glass of water. She took it back and set it down again.

“Do you want to sleep?” she asked, watching him carefully. 

He nodded.

“Do you want to be alone?”

He looked over at her, a little bit hoping that she’d infer the answer from his face. But she simply waited for him. Even if she only doing this to make him feel better and even if knowing that yet doing it anyway made him selfish, he already knew what he really wanted. The thought of being left alone with his thoughts at the moment was too much. So he slowly shook his head.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. She settled back down, pulling the blankets back over her shoulders. This time, he didn’t wait for the cover of sleep. He wrapped an arm over her and pulled her close, finding the easy fit of her against him almost instantly. A moment later, her arm slipped around him too. A knot in his chest seemed to loosen. For the time being, he could feel the waters recede. And mercifully, sleep crept back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mass Effect Relationship Week was last week, and of course I missed it. Please, take this chapter in humble penance. <3, K


	36. Make the Bed, Light the Light

There were many, many things to be thinking about. Vigil arrangements, and packing enough levo food, and figuring out how to take care of the Vakarians. There wasn’t time to be considering how pleasant it was to wake up next to Gar--no, don’t finish that sentence, Shepard. She had a million other things to plan for, and yet and yet. Shepard blinked and focused again on the winding road ahead of the car, keeping an eye out for the driveway that Garrus promised would be coming up in just a moment or so.

Garrus pointed wordlessly to a drive tucked back between some bushes. Good thing, Shepard definitely would have missed it otherwise. The driveway folded back on itself as it cut its way up through the forest on one of the mountains outside of Cipritine. After a few minutes, there was a break in the trees, giving a very strategic view of the house at the end of the drive. Her mouth dropped open.

It was one thing to be told that the Vakarian name was well respected and high ranking. It was quite another to see the physical proof of it. The house--or estate perhaps--was boxy like all turian architecture, several stacked stories jutting off the side of the mountain. It seemed to be mostly windows and balconies and steel beams. It was impressive to be sure, but in that understated way that just screamed ‘old money’.

Shepard focused again on the driveway ahead of her, carefully parking behind Sol’s car in the wide paved area in front of the house. As they opened the trunk, the front door to the house opened and Sol ran out, looking furious.

“Where have you been?” Sol hissed, hurrying towards them. She checked back over her shoulder, as if she was afraid of being watched or overheard.

“What do you mean?” Garrus asked, hauling out Shepard’s bag and handing it to her.

“You were supposed to be here at  _ dawn _ ,” she whispered harshly. “That was over four hours ago.” 

“Only traditionalists hold to that rule--”

“And what do you think Dad is?” She crossed her arms and looked at him pointedly. 

Garrus’ shoulders fell and he swore under his breath. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the den. You’re lucky no one has come yet.”

“I’ll get the bags,” Shepard offered, taking the one he was holding from him. He gave her an apologetic look and then ran off to the front door.

Sol sighed and shook her head, looking after him for a moment.

“Sorry that we’re late,” Shepard offered as she hauled out the last bag and shut the trunk.

“It’s not your fault, wasn’t like you knew.” Sol picked up one of the bags and headed towards the front door.

“Well… actually I did know.”

Sol turned back to look at her, an eyebrow plate raised inquisitively.

“I… did some research,” she explained. Shepard counted herself lucky that the main turian mourning practices weren’t inscrutable from a human perspective. Gathering the immediate family together for a week long vigil where close friends and relatives could come console and reminisce with the grieving family felt very natural, very… human. “But Garrus said that it would be okay if we were late.”

Sol snorted and turned back around. “Yeah, that’s my brother. He’s kind of an idiot, in case you hadn’t noticed yet.” She opened the front door and let Shepard step inside. 

Thankfully, Shepard managed to keep her mouth from dropping open this time, though her eyes did go definitely wide. The ceilings in the house were tall, the walls lined with cool blonde wood. One step inside the front door and instantly her eye was drawn to the view out of the back windows. All of Cipritine lay below them, slate grey and bustling, surrounded by mountains on all sides. This was exactly the type of place the future Primarch of Palaven would be raised, Shepard thought.

Sol showed Shepard to a guest room where she could stay for the week. But she quickly ducked away, claiming that she had to run interference for Garrus and Castis. That left Shepard to her own devices to find her way around the house, for which she was grateful in a way. No need to try to manage her reactions as she made her way through the tastefully elegant living spaces and expansive balconies. She was free to ogle at the view as long as she wanted. This house was obviously older than the one she lived in with Garrus, but no less well appointed. Rooms flowed effortlessly into one another, cleverly arranged to make the best use of the space. 

Despite its obvious grandeur, it still felt homey. Probably due to the family portraits and the children’s artwork scattered about the space. A canvas in the hall bore the proud signature of one Garrus Vakarian, age eleven. There was Galena’s piece of asari artwork all the way from Thessia hanging in the dining room, right next to a family portrait from at least a decade ago. Shepard smiled as she found height marks on the kitchen wall, two sets for Garrus and Solana over the years. She traced over the pencil marks; it was hard to believe that either of them were ever that small. 

Her smile disappeared as the door chime sounded. Shepard waited for a long moment, wondering if she shouldn’t just go make herself scarce. However, it appeared that none of the family were exiting whatever argument they were probably in. Alright, so she was down three soldiers in unfamiliar territory with bogeys at the front door. Wouldn’t be the first time she had to hold the line until the cavalry showed up, she reasoned as she headed for the door. And last time she was down an entire division with the Hierarchy itself bearing down on what was left of Opportunity. She could do this. Shepard straightened her spine and opened the front door.

The turian couple on the other side of the door looked more than a little shocked to see her. But Shepard just smiled warmly.

“Are you here for Galena’s vigil?” she asked. The male turian glanced at his mate and then nodded. Shepard opened the door a little more and waved them inside. “I’m Shepard… Garrus’ mate.”

A look of comprehension dawned on both their faces. “Venari Pallin, and this is my mate, Senna,” the taller man with wide white markings introduced. “I worked with Castis at C-Sec for many years.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” Shepard said politely. According to her research, at vigil there was usually food already prepared in addition to whatever the guests brought with them, but the house was still quiet. “Sorry, we’re getting off to a late start here. Does that need to be served warm?” She offered to take the stoneware dish in Senna’s hands.

“It’s better warm, yes,” she said, handing off the dish.

“The kitchen’s just this way.” Shepard quickly set the oven to start warming. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’m… new, but I would guess we probably have coffee or--”

“Actually,” Senna interrupted, sitting at one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “If they have any of Galena’s special tea, I’d love some. It’s been too long since I had a glass of it.”

Shepard hunted through several cabinets and was able to find the tea. She prepared two mugs, chatting aimlessly with the Pallin’s. Just as she was handing the cups off, the door chime rang again. Playing hostess wasn’t exactly how Shepard imagine herself following Galena’s orders, but the Vakarians obviously still needed time to sort themselves out. So Shepard repeated the same dance with the Ardaraka’s, and Mr. Sanctus, and the Orentius family. Maintain equilibrium, don’t give up too much ground, keep an eye on supply levels; it was all oddly familiar territory for her.

With some help, Shepard set up the table in the kitchen for serving food from. Though there were plenty of comfier chairs in the living room, everyone stayed gathered in the kitchen. Most of the guests seemed to know each other, but everyone was definitely curious about Shepard. Her research told her that part of the vigil was sharing stories about the deceased. So she told the group about her first meeting with Galena, the dinner that went horribly wrong and how she tried to shake her hand. Shepard never really considered herself a great storyteller, but it definitely amused the guests. 

Thankfully as she finished the story, the cavalry arrived. The Vakarians finally made their entrance and seeing as the family was who everyone had come to visit, Shepard busied herself behind the scenes. She answered the door, played Tetris with a seeming endless supply of platters of food, and tried her best to keep up on cleaning the dishes as needed.

It shouldn’t have surprised her how quickly the day passed. It felt like she looked up and the sun was suddenly setting, the last guests leaving. Shepard made a final pass through the living area, searching for any cups or plates that may have been hidden out of sight. Spotting one on a high shelf, she frowned. Who would put one all the way up there? Standing on tip-toe, the tips of her fingers just barely grazed the cup, pushing it back further on the shelf.

She huffed a breath. “Come on,” she muttered. She was saved from climbing up on the console table when someone grabbed it for her. Her eyebrows jumped sky-high when she turned to see it was Castis holding the mug. He held it out to her and she took it.

“Thank you,” he said, simply, after a moment. His usual stony exterior was still present, but there was a different undercurrent than usual. He seemed almost worn at the edges.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Vakarian.”

“Castis, please.”

Shepard nodded. Neither of them really seemed to know what to say for a few seconds. “If there’s more that I can do to help, please, let me know,” she offered sincerely.

He let out a breath and shook his head. “You’ve already done plenty.”

“Well, even still… I was given orders. And I mean to follow them, sir.”

One of his mandibles twitched in a very small half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That sounds like my Galena.”

Shepard hesitated for a moment, and hoped she wasn’t going to step over some unknown boundary line. “I’m going to miss her.”

But Castis just nodded. “We all will. She was… well, there’s hardly words to describe her.”

“Exactly.”

He stood there for several seconds, looking exactly like Garrus always did when he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Shepard cautiously stepped towards him.

“If I may… you should get some sleep. I’ll make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow, and locked up.”

He blinked at her, as if he was surprised that she saw his indecisiveness. However, he took the permission she offered him. He gave her another small half-smile and then headed down the hall.

 

The view off the main balcony was more familiar to Garrus than any other sight in the galaxy. Leisurely family dinners were spent out there every summer, watching the city lights come on as the sun set. A cool breeze blew through the trees as he leaned his elbows on the railing. He tried to recall a specific evening, but they all blurred together; the details were obscured but some things the same again and again. Mom would always roast vegetables, just until the edges started to crisp. She would always sit in that chair at the opposite end of the table from Dad. She would always spend the rest of the evening on the deck, looking out at the view and resting her elbows on the railing just like he was now.

He hadn’t spent very long at his parent’s house since going to basic training, no more than a few nights a year. It seemed impossible for her to not be here, to not just be in the kitchen preparing a cup of her favorite tea, to not be chastising him for leaving his shoes in the hallway, to not be sitting in the living room reading intelligence reports quietly in the morning. How could she just be gone?

One of the glass doors behind him opened and he glanced over his shoulder. Shepard stood in the doorway, holding a mug. She gave him a soft smile but didn’t immediately approach; she seemed to be waiting to see if he wanted her company. Anyone else, he probably would have bristled at even the offer. But he knew she wouldn’t push. Plus, he hadn’t really had a chance to talk to her since they arrived at the house this morning. Had it really only been this morning? Felt like a lifetime.

“Hey,” he said, turning back to look out at the view. “You were busy today.”

She came to stand next to him. “Yeah. There’s lots to do during vigil, apparently,” she said, lightly, testing the waters.

“You don’t have to do--”

She shook her head. “If arranging casserole dishes and answering the door helps make this week any easier, then that’s what I’m here to do.”

He didn’t reply; any words he might have felt like they would cheapen the depth of her gesture. It was a comfort, small but real, to know that Shepard was watching his family’s backs. So he settled for nodding. They just stood side by side, looking out at the view but not really seeing. After a minute, she held out the steaming mug towards him.

“I made the last of your mom’s tea. I’ll have to go get more ingredients for it tomorrow, didn’t realize that it would be so popular.” 

He took the mug and rolled it between his hands for a moment, the familiar spice blend meeting his nose. He took the first sip, closing his eyes to savor the warm feeling that instantly spread through his chest. A thousand memories rose to the surface along with a stunning sense of absence. It felt like he could run his hand around the ragged hole inside him, gaping and raw. He couldn’t stop the low keen in his subvocals that even Shepard would be able to hear.

She, thankfully, didn’t comment, just looped her arm through his and squeezed his arm comfortingly. It was several minutes before he could speak again.

“It’s… good tea,” he said, lamely, as if he wasn’t one wrong step away from a repeat of last night in the gym. He didn’t want to break down again; he already felt tired enough.

She gave him a sideways glance, but kept her head faced forward. “Do you know if there’s a levo version of the recipe?” she asked, calmly. 

“I don’t know… maybe. Sol might know.”

“I’ll have to ask her.” She paused, as if waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, she soldiered on anyway. “Either way… should get some for the house. We both should probably cut down on our morning coffee intake anyway. Though Tyrius told me that Terra’s supposed to be getting in some real Sumatran coffee next month.”

At first he was confused why she was talking  _ at _ him about this. But as she continued and he calmed, he realized what she was doing. The thoroughly mundane conversation helped to build up the raft of normality he was so desperately clinging to--created a safe space to come down in. He realized then it wasn’t just his family’s backs she was watching.

“There was this coffeeshop not too far from the Alliance headquarters. They had the best biscotti--cranberry, pecan, and lemon zest. Vega and I would go get coffee and biscotti when we were on shore leave sometimes. Sumatran medium for me, Colombian blonde for him; he always said that’s also how he liked his women.”

He shifted how he was holding the mug to cover her hand with his. She stopped talking and looked over at him.

“Thanks,” he sighed, feeling more steady on his feet now. 

She nodded. “Do you want me to keep prattling on about coffee? Because I can.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay now. Just… tired.” Though the word hardly felt like it was apt. It almost felt like a conscious effort to keep standing.

“Sol put your bags down in your old room...” She trailed off, probably having the exact same thought he was. Was last night an outlier? Or a precedent? Shepard wasn’t looking at him, giving him space to make the call. As tired and as heartbroken as he felt, he still knew it wasn’t his to make.

“Shepard,” he said, gently squeezing her hand under his. “Don’t… don’t feel like you have to… to sleep with--thank you for last night, but you don’t have to--”

“What if… what if I want to?” Her eyes flicked up to him, a cautious wariness in her expression.

“Oh.” He just barely kept his jaw from hanging open, mandibles flapping in the breeze. She… huh, she… wanted… huh. He blinked a few times as his brain kept stuttering. “Then… you can.”

She looked at him a moment, the wariness in her expression replaced by something warm and gentle. “Then I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Garrus looked away from her, feeling his neck grow a little warm. A deep doubtful voice wondered if she actually wanted to, or this somehow fell on the same list as arranging dishes and answering the door. Spirits, he hoped not.

“Garrus,” she said, after a moment of silence between them.

“Yes?”

“We were going to bed…?”

Now his neck felt abruptly heated. “Right, yes.” And he didn’t move a muscle.

Shepard gave him a sympathetic smile and took his hand, leading him away from the balcony. All Garrus could think in that moment was that if his mother could see him from the afterlife, she was probably laughing.


	37. Lady Mercy won't be Home Tonight

Shepard could swear that the mugs were breeding. Hadn’t she just passed through the living room not twenty minutes ago and there weren’t any here then? She stopped and rearranged the stack of dishes in her hands, trying to be quiet and not really succeeding. 

Garrus looked over from the conversation in the front room he didn’t appear to be really participating in. Castis and the couple had been talking in low tones for over an hour at this point. Garrus’ mandible flickered in a silent offer to help, but she quickly shook her head and walked into the kitchen. 

It was quieter today. Fewer people came and there were long intervals where there was no one there at all. The mood was solemn, empty. Footsteps seemed to echo loudly around the house no matter how quietly she walked.

Glancing out the large back windows, Shepard spotted Sol. She was sitting on the table in the far back corner of the deck, alone. Shepard could hear Garrus and Castis still talking with the couple in the front room. So she opened the back door and stepped outside.

Sol didn’t look up as she approached, just glanced at her as she sat down next to her. Shepard pressed her arm against Sol’s, a low steady hum coming from her subvocals. Not as strong or even in the same register as Garrus’ had been that night in the gym. But it was definitely present.

They sat in silence for several minutes. A slight breeze waved the trees around them down the mountainside.

“Do humans wear black in mourning?” Solana finally asked, her voice quiet. “I noticed you haven’t worn anything else this week.”

Shepard nodded. “Some do… I know it’s not a turian custom, but it felt wrong to bring anything else.”

“Mom would have liked that. She always loved color.”

Her hum grew stronger and Sol looked down at her feet again. Shepard took her hand in hers and squeezed. 

Sol nodded quickly. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said after a moment. Her voice sounded thin, brittle. “It-- it really means a lot.”

Shepard shook her head. “You’re the ones… I--I just want to help as best I can.”

“You are helping… Garrus is lucky to have you. I hope he realizes that.” Her hum changed tone, became stronger yet higher in register. She shook her head and the humming stuttered but continued, stronger still.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shepard asked, looking out at the view.

She shut her eyes and let out a breath. “It’s… it’s nothing, I… I’m just… a terrible daughter.”

Shepard squeezed her hand harder. “You know that’s not true.”

Sol shook her head. “No, I… I’m supposed to be mourning Mom this week and I am, but... I just can’t stop thinking about how I screwed everything up and now it’s too late.”

Shepard looked at her, trying to search out the meaning behind her words.

Sol looked at her for a moment before sighing. “You aren’t the first non-turian one of us has brought back to meet our parents.” She looked out at the vast city far below them, her expression very distant. “But I didn’t have the backing of the Hierarchy. I was naive. I brought her to dinner expecting a warm welcome and when she didn’t get one… I got scared, I caved. Broke things off. I--I should have stood by her. I loved her--still do. And if they had just gotten to know her, they would have loved her too.” She took a shuddering breath. “Now Mom never will. And I just keep thinking about what I should have done differently, how much I miss her. And it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing right now.” She laughed bitterly. “Can’t even keep it together for a week.”

Shepard squeezed her hand again. “It’s… it’s perfectly normal to take stock of your life after you lose someone. Reminds us that it’s all temporary. There’s not really time to live with regret.”

She frowned, but nodded. Her hum continued, but Shepard was gratified to feel it grow quieter.

“Sol?” Garrus called from the back door. They turned around to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“The Octatius’ are leaving soon.”

Sol nodded and stood to go inside. Shepard followed after her, but stayed behind with Garrus on the deck.

“Is she okay?” he asked, watching her walk further into the house.

“As okay as can be expected, I think.” She looked up at him and placed a hand on his arm. “How about you?”

“About the same,” he said, quietly.

Shepard wrapped her arms about him, resting her head on his chest. His arms encircled her, one hand threading up into her hair.  _ No time to live with regret,  _ her own voice reminded her.

 

Spirits, it was pleasant here. Everything was soft and warm, smelled like floral soap and salt. It felt safe. He could stay here forever. It was very nearly perfect--if only someone would stop tapping on his fringe.

Garrus didn’t open his eyes, just batted a hand at whatever it was and tried to sink back into sleep.

“Garrus,” Sol whispered. She tapped on his fringe again, more insistent this time. “Garrus.”

Oh, for the love of-- Garrus cracked open an eye. For a moment, he was confused at why he couldn’t see anything. Right. He didn’t usually sleep on his stomach with his face tucked into a pillow. He turned his head and rumbled sleepily at his sister. “What?”

“Where’s Shepard?”

“What?” He blinked, still feeling the tempting tug of sleep trying to pull him back down.

“I can’t find Shepard. Have you seen her?”

At the sound of her name, Shepard let out a soft grunt and lifted her head. She was sleeping tucked up under his arm and shoulder. Or at least she had been, till Sol had so rudely awoken them both. 

Shepard looked around, her eyes still closed and her hair messy. “Wah?” 

Sol let out a surprised chuff, her eyes wide. “Shep--Oh, I didn’t--”

“Everything okay?” Shepard murmured, lifting a hand to push her hair out of her face.

Sol let out a thin embarrassed hum, backing up a few steps. “Ah, everything’s fine. Sorry.”

“You sure?” Her eyes cracked open.

“Yep,” Sol squeaked. “I’ll just… see you at breakfast. So sorry.” Sol quickly retreated and shut the door behind her. Thank the Spirits.

Shepard blinked a few times, staring at the now shut door. “What was that about?” she said through a yawn.

“I think,” he said as he stretched his neck from side to side and got up. “She was worried when you weren’t in the room she thought you’d be in.” 

She sat up, running her fingers through her messy hair. “That’ll be a fun conversation.”

Garrus looked up from the bag he was searching for a shirt in, frowning a little. “What do you mean?”

She chuckled and scooted her way to the edge of the bed. “‘Hey Sol, sorry you had to see that. Yes, it’s true, I’m sleeping with your brother. But not in the way you’d think.’”

He huffed a laugh and pulled out a shirt. “Have fun with that.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re not going to be part of it,” she said, breezily, as she walked into the ensuite bathroom and shut the door.

“Oh, no,” he insisted, quickly changing out of the shirt he’d slept in. “Sol and I have a long-standing agreement to  _ not _ talk about each other’s relationships.”

“And how did that come about?” Her voice sounded muffled coming from the other side of the door. 

“I once accidentally walked in on her and Keslia. Mortifying.”

There was a pause, then she opened the door. “Wait, what?”

He held up his hands. “In my defense, they’d decided that the back balcony was a good place to ‘embrace eternity’.”

Shepard shook her head and walked closer. “No--did you say Keslia?”

“Yeah, she was an old girlfriend of Sol’s.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Keslia? The asari shop owner Keslia?”

“You know her?”

She thought for a moment. “Did Sol bring her back to meet your parents?”

“She told you about that?”

Shepard nodded.

“Yeah, it went… poorly.” Another dark day in the Vakarian household. Sol had been miserable afterwards. It wasn’t for several months that he found out just how badly things had turned out between the two of them. Unfortunate, but if anyone understood her reasons, he did.

Shepard was making a particular expression, a faraway look in her eye and worrying her bottom lip between her flat teeth. He knew it all too well. It was an expression that rightfully struck fear into the hearts of turians and men alike.

“Oh, no,” he said flatly.

Her eyes slid back to him. “What?” she replied, too innocently.

“You’re making your planning face.”

She poorly suppressed a smile. “Well I was thinking… we could get the two of them back together.”

“Or we could, instead, go about our day and leave my sister’s love life alone. I vote the second one.” He hoped that by leaving the room he could put a stop to this crazy idea. He should have known better, he really should have.

“Oh, come on, Vakarian.” Shepard grabbed his arm to stop him, but he kept walking. Thanks to her socks, however, she just slid along the length of the hallway behind him. “I know for a fact Keslia is still carrying a torch for someone, probably Sol. And Sol still loves her. She told me so herself.” He didn’t stop when he reached the stairs at the end of the hall, just started heading up them.

“Besides,” she cajoled quietly, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers in a very unfair move. “I think they’d be happy together. And doesn’t Sol deserve to be happy?”

He turned slightly, looking back at her on the step below him. Her planning face gone now, replaced with large green pitiful eyes. He sighed and felt his resistance dissolve. “We have to do recon first. I’m not meddling in Sol’s personal life without hard intel.”

She burst into a smile and his heart hiccuped. “But, of course.”

“And if this goes poorly, I claim no involvement.”

“Black op romance stings are my speciality,” she assured him, coming to join him on his step.

“Oh, really?”

She nodded and passed him on the stairs. “Yes. It’s on my record. Right below Top of my N7 Class and above Beat Major Garrus Vakarian at Bottle Shooting.”

He growled and she laughed.


	38. Oh, Every Night and Every Day

Shepard frowned as she looked into the living room from the kitchen. Castis and Sol were speaking amicably with a couple as their children sat nearby, quietly fussing with each other. Garrus should have been with them, but he wasn’t. In fact, Shepard realized she hadn’t seen him in a few hours. A quick glance outside confirmed that he wasn’t on the balcony; she checked the bedroom, which was empty. If he hadn’t left, there was only one other place he could be.

Tentatively, Shepard pushed the door to the office open. Tucked into a far corner of the house, it was a small reclusive study that she was pretty sure used to be exclusively for Galena’s use. Bookshelves were regimentally spaced across three of the walls, in between medals and framed articles of the Vakarians’ various achievements. There was a large chair in the corner that Garrus was sitting in, staring off into nothing. She knocked lightly on the door frame. He blinked and looked to her. 

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked in a low voice. It felt like she’d asked that question about a thousand times this week. But often there was little else to do for the family besides try to keep them healthy.

He shook his head. 

She stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind her before sitting against the arm of his chair. He’d been especially quiet before he disappeared. His eyes looked tired. 

Garrus took her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. She expected to feel his subvocals but they were completely silent. Somehow that was just as bad. Not letting go, she moved to sit in the chair with him, her legs over his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, pressing his face into the top of her head.

“Tell me it gets easier,” he said softly, his voice sounding hollow. “Please.” He had to know, logically. But Shepard knew that somehow it was always different to hear someone else confirm what you already knew. Especially someone you trusted.

She nodded and squeezed his hand. “It does. It will. It’ll… take time, but it will.”

He took in a long breath. “How much time?”

Shepard was quiet for a long moment, trying to find the words, then shifted so she could see his face. “I wish I could promise that in six months or a year it’ll all feel okay again. But that’s… that’s not how it works. Some days will be okay… and then some days it’ll feel like you just lost her last night.” She moved to touch his cheek with her free hand. His plates were textured, like a very fine pumice, and warm under her palm. “...But what I can promise is that I’ll be here. Six months from now, six years from now, doesn’t matter--I’ll be here.”

He leaned into her hand, his eyes closing and a dual-toned sigh escaping him.

“Thank you, Shepard,” he murmured, resting his head on top of hers again.

They sat there together for several minutes, holding each other, till eventually Garrus broke the silence. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through this week without you.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up a little. “You would have found a way,” she said, gently. “Maybe not as stylishly, of course.”

He chuckled softly, and it was the best sound she’d heard in days. She couldn’t help but smile too. It’d been too long since she’d heard that. She turned to catch his eye and her forehead softly brushed his. He blinked in surprise and sat back. It was a moment before she realized what she’d done.

“Oh. Sorry,” she quickly apologized.

“No, it’s…” His mandibles edged back and forth uneasily. “I already--I probably should have explained that night in the--”

“It’s alright. I--” She took a breath and hoped that she wasn’t going to mess this up the next two words. “I knew… Seen enough turian vids at this point, I knew.”

“Right.” He looked away from her, obviously worried.

 She caught his cheek and turned his head to look back at her. “I didn’t mind it,” she said, carefully. She was all too aware of how uncharted this territory was that she was stepping into. “At all. It’s nice. I see the appeal.”

Surprise washed away his unease, and it only grew louder as she slowly leaned towards him again. She stopped and waited to see if he would close the distance between them. For one terrifying moment, it felt like she had accidentally taken one step too far. But then he cautiously leaned towards her and brushed his forehead against hers.

Garrus exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for a very long time and closed his eyes. He leaned into her more, his hand moving to cup her jaw, fingertips ghosting on her neck. He traced down the side of her face to caress her cheek with his, then back up and around to brush against the other side. It reminded her almost of a cat, and the way his subvocals felt like a gentle purr definitely wasn’t helping denounce that image. But it still made her heart start to race all the same.

Shepard hummed, feeling very content in this moment. It was different than anything she was used to, but oddly, surprisingly good. Foreheads still touching, she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. He stared into her eyes unblinking for a long moment. If the face touching made her heart race, this made it stop. This felt ...intimate. In a way that she’d never really experienced before. And in a way that she never wanted to stop.

But then abruptly, Garrus turned and looked towards the door. She looked over and her face turned scarlet as standing in the doorway was Castis. Oh god, oh God, Oh  _ GOD _ . She quickly scrambled off of Garrus’ lap and stepped away, falling into standing at attention because she didn’t know what else to do.

“The Kandros family is here,” Castis said, pointedly looking just at Garrus. Shepard would give any number of limbs to be able to discern what his subvocals were saying. No, she suddenly changed her mind. It was  _ definitely _ better that she didn’t know.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Garrus simply replied, standing up as well. Castis nodded and shut the door.

“God,” Shepard groaned, covering her face with her hands. She probably resembled a lobster more than a human at this point. “I-- I am  _ so _ sorry.”

He gently pulled her hands away from her face. Miserably, she looked back up at him. 

“I’m not,” he said. And he tipped his forehead back down to meet hers for another long moment. She sighed a laugh and he squeezed her hands, before stepping away and leaving the room. It took her a moment to remember how to breathe again.

Oh, boy.

 

Garrus slipped past the living room, avoiding his father and the couple whose names he should remember but didn’t. It was late enough in the day, in the week even, that surely he wouldn’t be expected to keep talking to people, but he wasn’t going to push his luck. He slid into the kitchen and hunted through the cabinets for glasses. Why did it feel like everytime he returned here, the kitchen had been rearranged? 

Garrus froze as the side door opened, but luckily just Shepard walked in. She was looking down at something in her hand. When she looked up, he put a finger to his mouth--a gesture she’d once told him meant silence for humans. Shepard gave him a suspicious look, tucking the small something into her pocket.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, looking around a little.

“Recon,” he replied as he pulled two glasses from the cabinet. He was careful not to clink them together as he held them in one hand, and went out on the back balcony. 

Sol was right where he thought she’d be, sitting on the table in the back corner. It was the usual spot they went to avoid the other members of the house. He’d spent an embarrassing amount of his teen years perched up on that very table, brooding and staring into the distance. No wonder he became a sniper. 

Sol looked up as she heard him approach. “Hey.” Then she noticed the cups in his hand and also looked suspicious. Couldn’t anyone give him a little credit around here? “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering if you wanted something to drink?” he asked, coming to stand next to where she was sitting.

“I think if I have any more tea, I’ll burst.”

“How about something a little stronger then?” He revealed the fire brandy he’d been carefully hiding behind his back.

Sol’s eyes went wide. “You raided Dad’s liquor cabinet?”

“How stupid do you think I am?” At her half-amused look, he quickly cut her off. “Don’t answer that. No, Shepard packed this from home. Figured tonight would be a good night to open it.” He handed over the bottle and sat next to her on the table.

“I always knew there was a reason I liked your mate.” She opened the bottle and poured generous amounts into both glasses. They sat in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, sipping their brandy and enjoying the burn. He looked out at the familiar view; he’d always liked the city at night.

“Sorry about the other day…” Garrus started, glancing over at her. She looked a little confused. “When you walked in on me and… I--”

“No, don’t…” She shook her head. “I should’ve guessed. I thought she smelled like you, but I guess I just figured that with the whole… you know, arranged bonding thing…”

“Yeah. It’s… ah…” He took a sip to try and come up with a word that wouldn’t immediately clue his sister in to how he was feeling about the recent developments. He himself wasn’t even sure yet, and he didn’t want Sol jumping in with Opinions or, even worse, Advice. “It’s new.”

She hummed, sounding a little amused for some reason. “Do you make her happy?”

“I… I hope so. I’m giving it my best shot.”

Sol looked over at him, carefully observing him. “Does she make you happy?”

For one fleeting second, he remembered holding Shepard in the office yesterday and shooting bottles with her down at the valley and the way she stood up for him against that reporter and countless other moments over the last year. An unconscious smile stole across his face and Sol’s amused hum grew louder. “...She really does.”

“Good.”

Garrus schooled his smiled away and took another sip before taking the planned step into unknown territory. “So… how about you?” 

She looked over at him. “How about me what?”

“Do you… have someone that makes you happy?” he asked cautiously. Internally, he was cursing Shepard and her huge persuasive eyes with every word. 

Sol looked suspicious again. “You’re being weird.”

Yep, that went about as he thought it would, as he had warned Shepard it would. “Alright, never mind.” He took another sip and tried to find a different angle. “I just… It feels like I see you often, but I don’t know what’s happening in your life these days.”

He let the idea sit between them, to see if Sol shut him out again. If she did, he’d claim it a lost cause and hopefully Shepard would let this insane idea go. Another pipe dream, he already knew. 

She was quiet for a long moment, regarding the half-drunk glass in her hands thoughtfully. “You don’t know anything because there’s nothing to know. There hasn’t been anyone worth mentioning since… well, since Kes,” she sighed and took a large swig.

Garrus pressed his advantage. “Yeah, what happened there? When I went to that party at your apartment, you two seemed… solid. Maybe even on the road to bondmates.”

“We were… But you were at the dinner; you remember Dad.” She took another drink, even larger than the last.

“Since when do you care what anyone else thinks?”

“I do care.” She glanced at him, somehow seeming both indignant and embarrassed at the same time. “I care a lot. Especially when it’s my family.” She scoffed and shook her head.  “The Hierarchy doesn’t exactly train us in being comfortable with telling our superiors ‘Fuck off. I’m doing what I want’, much less Dad and Mom.” 

Garrus wisely kept his mouth shut and his face forward. He knew that Sol wasn’t finished. Her voice sounded very small when she continued.

“I wish there was a better explanation than I lost my nerve and got scared… I told her that I didn’t want to entrench her in some prolonged family drama. But we both knew that wasn’t the truth.”

“Sorry, Sol,” he said, quietly, after a moment.

She keened bitterly. “Not as sorry as I am.”

He glanced over at her. “Would you ever want to… try again?”

Sol scoffed. “What even would I say to her? ‘Hey babe, sorry I dumped you because I’m too scared to stand up to my own parents. Anyway, my mom just died--can I take you to dinner next week?’”

Garrus shrugged. “Doesn’t feel much worse than ‘Hey soldier, sorry about the brutal and bloody war your species just lost. Anyway, we’re shipping you across the galaxy and you’re going to be bonded to one of the snipers.’”

She shook her head. “Just because you and Shepard have somehow  _ miraculously _ worked out doesn’t mean that’s how it works for the rest of us. You two just got damn lucky.”

He had to admit, she was probably right about that. But if anyone deserved to be lucky, deserved to be happy with someone like he was with Shepard, it was definitely his sister.

“Perhaps you’re right, maybe it’s been too long now for you and Kes.” He looked over at her. “But just know that if you… if you ever decide to go toe-to-toe with Dad again about this, or really anything else, count me as backup. Shepard too, I’d imagine.”

She appeared to think about it for a moment. “At least I’d have superior numbers this time,” she commented dryly.

“Wars have been won with less.”

She breathed a small laugh at that. Garrus didn’t say anything more; he wasn’t out to change her mind, just to see if she was open to the possibility. Besides, it was nice to just sit with his sister and drink in the quiet of the evening. Though he wasn’t surprised when he heard footsteps behind them; Shepard was probably wondering where they went.

“I should have known this is where I’d find you two.”

Garrus’ brow plates lifted and he turned back around to see his father walking up, mug in hand. Despite spending an entire week at the same house, Garrus hadn’t really talked with his father the whole time. There were always guests or Garrus had sought out solitude. But now, it was just the three of them. 

Dad was tired, Garrus could see it in the set of his shoulders, though his posture was as immaculate as ever as he came to stand next to them. Dad immediately noticed the bottle on the table between them.

“Did you raid my liquor cabinet?” he asked, an echo of the all too familiar disapproving tone in his voice. Sol and Garrus quickly exchanged the knowing glance that only siblings can.

“No,” Garrus replied with an amused smile. “This was from mine.”

“Want some?” Sol asked, holding out the bottle. “It’s pretty good.” Dad looked down at the mug in his hands.

“Why not?” He shot back what was left of his drink and Sol generously poured brandy into his cup before refilling hers and Garrus’. The siblings shuffled aside so there was space between them for Dad to sit down on the table.

The quiet resumed again, more formal this time, but maybe Garrus was just imagining it. 

“Do you know what time you’ll be leaving tomorrow?” Dad asked, sipping slowly from his glass.

“Early,” Sol said. “I need to get back to the shelter, check on things. Hopefully everything’s been okay, but it’s always a crap shoot.”

“Same for us,” Garrus added. “I’m expected back at the base at the usual time.” He smiled a little. “And I imagine Shepard wants to stop telling the same story about how she knows us fourteen times a day.”

Sol chuckled softly and Dad nodded.

“Well, in case I don’t see you in the morning, I want to… to thank you both for being here this week,” Dad said, a little stiltedly. “It would have meant a lot to your mother… and it means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Sol murmured, looping her arm through his. 

Dad took a deep breath. “She was very proud of you two. I hope you know that.” He looked at each of them. “And I am too,” he added softly but firmly.

Garrus could see the same surprise he felt reflected on Sol’s face. He could count on one three-fingered hand the number of times his father had ever said he was proud of him in almost thirty years. Well, starting today he’d need two hands. Wonders never ceased.

At a loss for what to say, Garrus settled for nodding and a small smile. Never one for many words, Dad didn’t elaborate further and they were quiet again, but it somehow felt easier this time. After several minutes, Garrus looked down and noticed that all three of them were coincidentally holding their glasses the exact same way. Mom would have found that highly amusing, he decided. Maybe she still did.


	39. A Little Piece of You is Falling Away

Shepard tried her best to look nonchalant as she walked down the busy street. She was pretty sure she was doing a good job of it too. She kept her face forward and just looked out of the corner of her eye as she walked past Keslia’s store. It seemed to be empty. She didn’t even see Keslia inside. Feigning that the store wasn’t her actual target, Shepard kept on walking.

After Garrus confirmed that Sol still bore a torch for Keslia, Operation: Two Turtle Doves went into full swing. Garrus had asked about the name, but not in the way she expected. Apparently, the Hierarchy didn’t bother naming their operations--using only numerals and letters, which was an opportunity lost in Shepard’s eyes. Operations deserved fitting titles, and excellent strategy. Two Turtle Doves had both, if she said so herself.

She headed around the block before approaching her target again. This time she did stop and look in the windows. The store was still empty, odd for an afternoon at the end of the work week. Shepard opened the door and stepped inside.

It was quiet, that wonderful smell still permeating the store. Shepard flipped through a rack of shirts while she waited for Keslia to emerge. It was very simple: her goal for today was to get Keslia thinking about Sol. Really, Shepard thought that they probably only needed a gentle nudge in each other’s direction and the rest would take care of itself. But only time would tell. 

Several minutes crept by, and no one appeared. Even if she never had an abundance of customers, Keslia was always an attentive shop owner. Frowning, Shepard turned around to look towards where the backroom was curtained off. “Keslia?” she called.

There was a sudden noise of several empty boxes falling, followed by some fervent whispers that Shepard’s translator didn’t quite catch. A moment later, Keslia burst through the curtain, pulling it deliberately shut behind her.

“Ah! Hello, Shepard!” Keslia said brightly. Her eyes were bright and she was out of breath as if she’d just been running. “Hi!”

Shepard smiled a little despite feeling like something was up. “Hi, Keslia.” She looked at her friend for a moment, trying to see if she could discern what was happening. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah--yep, definitely. Everything--everything’s fine, great--good.”

“Anything you say five times must be true,” Shepard commented, still grinning.

Keslia chuckled a little, and pulled the sleeve of her shirt down into place. “Ah, how--how are you?”

“I’m fine. Just thought I’d stop by and say hello.”  _ And suggest to you that perhaps Sol was not as lost of a cause as you might believe, _ Shepard added internally.

“Oh, that’s nice. I always like your visits.”

Shepard looked at her for a moment, noticing the way she fidgeted under scrutiny. “You sure you’re okay? You seem… out of breath.”

Keslia’s eyes went wider still and she glanced back towards the stockroom. “Uh…  _ Inventory _ \--I was doing inventory. Heavy lifting… counting…” She nodded for far too long. Huh, were all asari bad liars or just Keslia, Shepard wondered.

“Inventory,” Shepard repeated.

“Yep, inventory.”

“I don’t think she’s going to buy that, Kes,” a new voice said from the backroom. 

Keslia’s face turned violently blue for a moment before the curtain was opened by Sol. She smiled at Shepard, looking exceedingly self-satisfied in a way that reminded Shepard a lot of Garrus, and went to stand next to Keslia.

A laugh escaped Shepard before she could stop it. “So you--Well, I should have known. How long has this been going on?”

“About a week,” Keslia answered. Whoa, that meant--

“I left Dad’s house and came straight here after the vigil,” Sol explained. “No time to live with regret, right?”

“Right,” Shepard replied, smiling a little. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Keslia said, looking up at Sol. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, before Keslia looked away and blushed as Sol continued to admire her. 

“You put Garrus up to talking to me about trying again with Kes, didn’t you?” Sol asked, dragging her eyes away from her girlfriend. 

Shepard nodded. “You both had told me that you still cared about each other, and we--well, I did and Garrus eventually agreed with me--thought that maybe you could be happy together again if you wanted.”

Sol smiled a little. “Normally, I like my brother to stay as far away from my love life as possible, but I wouldn’t have even thought if he hadn’t suggested…” She took Keslia’s hand in her own. “So thank you… but never again.”

Shepard held up her hands. “Never again, I promise. No more meddling in Sol’s love life.”

“Does this mean that we can’t meddle in Shepard’s love life?” Keslia asked Sol, far too innocently.

“Oh, definitely not,” Sol replied. They both turned to look at her, twin mischievous smiles on their faces, and Shepard suddenly wondered how in the hell she’d lost control of the situation so fast.

“Wait--”

“So what was the last you heard, Sol dear?” Keslia asked in an affected tone, leaning on the countertop. “Because last I heard she had a ‘magical’ date to the Officer’s Gala with one Garrus Vakarian.”

“Magical?” Sol said, sounding far too gleeful.

“Her exact word.”

“Oh, god,” Shepard said, dropping her face into her hand.

“ _ Interesting. _ ” Sol put her elbows on the countertop next to Keslia and rested her chin in her hands. “Because last I heard, they were sharing a bed now.”

“ _ Really? _ ”

“Can we please not do this?”

“ _ AND _ …” Sol paused till she had the entire attention of both Shepard and Keslia. “Dad walked in on them kissing.”

“Whoa, hey. We were not kissing,” Shepard insisted as Keslia crowed.

“What do you call touching foreheads on Earth then?” Sol asked.

“Nothing, it’s just touching foreheads.”

“Yeah, well, here on Palaven, we call it kissing.”

“Well it was just the onc--” Shepard hesitated, and they caught her hesitation. Crap, she was going to dig her own grave with this sentence. “It was just two times.”

The utter shock and delight on both of their faces felt like a death knell.

“But it doesn’t mean anything,” Shepard tried to justify. “We’re… friends. Just friends.” She didn’t believe the words as she said them, and neither did Keslia or Sol.

“So you share a bed, and you’ve kissed on at least two occassions, and you get along magically.” Keslia totalled up Shepard’s demise on her fingers. “I’m pretty sure that’s called just being happily bonded, not friends.”

Shepard sputtered, trying to come up with some more justifications while Sol’s delight dissolved into something more like concern. “Wait.” She stood up abruptly. “Has… Garrus done something to make you not trust him?” she asked carefully.

“No! No, I trust him more than anyone else at this point,” Shepard said, shoving a hand through her hair. 

“So why the hesitation then?”

Shepard huffed a breath. “It’s… fuck. It’s me, alright?”

Shepard looked between her two now very serious friends and sighed. How could she even begin to explain this? Explain that everyone left her. Everyone, no exceptions. Her parents, her friends. Being left by the Alliance nearly killed her. She already knew that she felt more for Garrus than just as friends. But progressing any further down this path gave him a lot of power to hurt her. And that terrified her.

“After… after everything I’ve been through… I don’t know if I’m… capable of being more than friends with anyone,” she admitted, avoiding their gazes.

They were both quiet for a long moment as the confession dropped onto the counter between them with a heavy thud.

“That doesn’t sound like the Shepard I know,” Sol said softly, waiting till she met her eyes to continue. “I think that the woman who once stared the Hierarchy down till the Hierarchy blinked is certainly brave enough to be in a real relationship with Garrus ‘I’ve Seen Every Episode of  _ Fleet and Flotilla _ But I Pretend I Don’t Like That Show Because I’m Insecure About It’ Vakarian.”

Shepard looked away and shook her head a little. “This is… different.”

“It’s really not,” Keslia added. “It’s about being brave… and being willing to sacrifice and step into the unknown to achieve something better.”

“And if anyone knows about that, it’s you, Flaming Death,” Sol finished.

Shepard frowned. She really wanted to believe them. It scared her a little at how badly she wanted them to be right. Maybe that was all she needed.

She looked back at the two of them and a corner of her mouth twitched up. “Garrus didn’t tell me how good of a team you two make.”

They both smiled and looked at each other. Sol dipped her head to brush her forehead against Keslia’s momentarily.

“And we never would have been one again if one of us hadn’t realized what a stupid mistake she was making by being cowardly,” Sol said.

“Ooh, who was that?” Keslia asked with a knowing smile. 

“Some other person; I forget her name,” Sol replied. “But I hear she’s really pretty.”

“She is.”

Sol’s neck darkened and she looked back at Shepard, mandibles fluttering in joyful embarrassment. Shepard chuckled.

“I’ll… think about it,” she said, actually meaning it surprisingly. “And I think I’ll take my leave now, let you get back to  _ inventory _ .”

“Right, yes. Doing inventory,” Keslia repeated, nodding rapidly. 

“Is inventory my new nickname?” Sol asked her. Keslia playfully smacked the front of her carapace with the back of her hand.

Shepard smiled and left the shop, catching sight of Keslia dragging Sol into the back room again. Well, if nothing else, Operation: Two Turtle Doves was a success. And Shepard had a whole new mission.

 

Garrus parked the car in front of the shelter and looked up and down the quiet street. Usually Shepard was waiting for him out on the curb at the end of the workday, but today she was conspicuously absent. No matter, he’d go in and find her.

As he walked into the front lobby, Sol was pacing in the receptionist’s room next to the lobby. The shelter was typically closed to visitors to by this time of day, so the lobby was empty and the receptionist was already gone.

“No, no, no, we need that delivery on the thirteenth, not the eighteenth,” she said into her omnitool, sounding very frustrated with whoever was on the other end. Garrus caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic smile. She nodded and unlocked the door from the lobby into the shelter proper. By the time he circled around to the back door she had finished her call.

“Rough day?” he asked. 

Sol grumbled and shook her head. “Don’t even get me started.” She sighed. “Anyway, did you need something?”

“Just looking for Shepard.”

“Spirits, is it 1900 already?” She looked at her omnitool. “I guess we both lost track of time. Yeah, I can take you to her.”

Sol turned off the lights in the lobby and receptionist office and lead him down the hall. In the distance, he could smell and hear dinner finishing up somewhere in the building. Unexpectedly, Sol headed away from the kitchen.

“Did Shepard get another promotion?” he asked with a smile.

“One of our day nurses was sick today, so she filled in in the nursery,” she explained.

“The nursery? People were okay with that?” he asked as they turned a corner.

“The babies don’t know any different. And it’s not like she was in there alone. See?”

Sol stopped in front of one of the large windows in the hall that looked into the nursery. There was indeed a turian nurse, carefully putting one of the babies back into their cradle. It took Garrus a few moments to spot Shepard. He walked further down the hall, seeing her sitting in a rocking chair at the far end of the room. She was holding a tiny wrapped baby in her arms and appeared to be talking to it. 

“What is she doing?” he asked, not able to take his eyes away from the sight for some reason.

“She’s singing to the babies,” Sol explained, as if it was obvious.

He glanced back at his sister, incredulously. “She’s singing?”

Sol pressed an intercom in between the windows and Shepard’s quiet voice came through. “ _ \--I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you-- _ ” Sol pulled her finger away and the sound stopped.

“Yeah, they really like it,” Sol said, shrugging. “We think it feels like subvocals to them.”

Garrus stared at Shepard, all sorts of pattering feelings tangling together in his chest. “Ah...” He watched Shepard hold out a finger and an impossibly small hand wrapped around it. She smiled down at the infant, still singing. Oh,  _ wow _ .

“So have you told her yet?” Sol asked after a moment.

“Told her what?” He didn’t bother looking away, he didn’t want to look away. Ever.

“You absolute moron--that you love her, of course.”

“ _ What? _ ” He blinked and looked back at Sol in alarm. “No, I don--I don’t!”

“Oh, please,” Sol trilled, unbelieving. “You can’t even look me in the eye and tell me that that woman in there singing human lullabies to turian babies doesn’t make your heart skip a beat.”

“She... doesn’t,” he lied. Dead-panned, Sol pressed the intercom again.

“ _ Hurry back, hurry back, don’t--” _

He pushed her hand off the button. “Stop that.”

“No.” She pressed it again.

“ _\--know what it means to me.”_ Garrus tried to push her hand away again, but she blocked him with her shoulder. “ _Love of my life, love of my--_ ”

“Alright, fine!” Finally, Sol removed her hand and gave him a very large shit-eating grin. “No! No, I haven’t told her. I… It’s--it’s complicated.”

Sol shook her head and laughed at some unknown joke. “It’s really not.”

He huffed a breath and turned away from the nursery and its confusingly beautiful views. “I think I liked it better when we didn’t talk about our personal lives with each other.”

Sol folded her arms. “I promise I won’t say anything more about it, after this: you need to tell her how you feel.”

He gave her a very flat look. “You remember how that went with Lana Octatius.” And he didn’t feel half as much for Lana as he did for Shepard. Words always seemed to fail him just when he needed them most.

“So  _ do _ something to show her how much she means to you.” Sol shrugged her shoulders as if it was obvious. “Just don’t keep her waiting. Shepard deserves better than that.”

He sighed and she patted his arm before walking away. What in the world could he do that would even come close to showing how he felt, he wondered. He’d maybe have a clue if she was a turian. But if he was going to do this, it should mean something to her as a human. Just what… he wasn’t sure.

“Hey there,” Shepard said, suddenly beside him. He just barely managed to keep himself from flinching in surprise. She smiled broadly up at him. “Sorry I’m late, lost track of time.”

“Not a problem.” He glanced back to the nursery. “Did you… have fun?”

“I did, yeah. But I’m definitely ready to go home.” A light went on in Garrus’ head. “Let me go grab my bag and I’ll meet you out front?”

“Sounds good,” he replied, a plan already starting to take shape in his mind. He watched her walk away and he knew one thing for certain. He was going to need to do a  _ lot _ more research.


	40. But Lift Your Face the Western Way

Shepard’s eyes drifted open, and for half a moment she considered wondering why she had woken up. It was still dark in the bedroom so she quickly decided it didn’t matter. She sunk down deeper under the covers and reached over for Garrus, missing his solid warmth. However, she ended up grasping empty and cold sheets. Confused, she lifted her head and looked around. Where was he?

It was then that she saw the telltale glow of the computer on the wall of the hallway. Sighing a little, she dragged herself out of bed and trudged down the short hall. Yep, there he was. Dead asleep in front of the computer. 

She had to smile a little at his dedication. She hoped his superiors understood the work he put into his job. He’d been very busy lately. Making up for lost time during the vigil, she guessed, though that was almost three whole weeks ago by now. How far behind did he fall? She didn’t ever know exactly what he was working on, life of a military spouse. On his screen wasn’t another shipping manifest for Terra Goods, however. Seemed to be some sort of dry government document about travel restrictions for Hierarchy citizens. Shrugging it off, she turned off the monitor and focused on her sleeping turian.

She gently ran the backs of her fingers over his mandible, which twitched a little but he didn’t stir. “Garrus,” she whispered, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. You’re not going to be happy in the morning if you sleep all night here.”

He let out a low sigh and stirred a little. She moved her hand to run across his shoulders. “Come on, wake up.”

He groaned and lifted his head. He didn’t even open his eyes, just stretched his neck as he sat up.

“Sore?” she asked, still whispering.

He nodded and looked around a little, obviously confused by what he was doing in the office. “Did I fall asleep in front of the computer again?” He never sounded so soft as he did when he’d just woken up, Shepard had discovered to her secret delight.

“Yeah.” She took his hand and pulled on it. “Come on, come to bed.”

He looked up at her and then reached out with his free hand and smoothed her hair. Her heart hiccuped. She smiled a little as his hand slipped behind her head and pulled her forehead towards his. Suddenly, she was off her feet and in his arms.

“Don’t feel like standing up,” he muttered, settling back in the chair and resting his cheek on the top of her head. She laughed softly, nestling into his arms for a few seconds. When it seemed like he was actually drifting off again, she stiffened.

“You’re going to drop me,” she muttered, trying to carefully get back on her own two feet. But he just held her tighter.

“No, I’m not,” he yawned.

“He said right before he dropped her,” she scoffed. “The bed is only twelve steps away, come on.”

He rumbled instead of replying, but did stand up and head for the bedroom. Though he didn’t put her down. If he were anyone else, she would have balked at being carried, but she was starting to enjoy it.

“Remember after the wedding when you said that you wouldn’t ever carry me again?” she asked him, smiling in amusement at the memory of his irate expression.

“Remember when you drank six Thessian Sunsets? I had to carry you out of the club then too.”

“I don’t really remember that actually,” she laughed quietly.

“Not surprising,” he groaned as he dropped down into bed. They adjusted till they found a comfortable position, his head on her shoulder and her arm around his neck. He hummed contentedly as her eyes drifted shut again. “Maybe you had a point about the bed,” he muttered, resting his forehead against her neck.

“Can’t believe I let you have this thing for a full year.”

She could feel his abdominal muscles contract as he chuckled. Sleep started to seep into the edges of their world. She was nearly asleep herself when she thought she heard him murmur, “It’s better with you here.”

But maybe she was just dreaming that.

 

Garrus looked up as the front door opened and Shepard walked through. She kicked off her shoes in the small pile in the entry way she’d been forming over the weeks and then immediately fell onto the couch with a sigh. Her head just barely missed his lap. 

“Busy day?” he asked, turning off the vid he’d been watching.

“Sol had me help with the kids again. Turns out that four year olds are exhausting no matter their species,” she said, her eyes drifting shut. She folded her arms and rested her cheek on them. “My head is killing me.”

He chuckled. “Do you want some help with that?”

“Mm, please,” she muttered, her pronunciation blurred from how she was laying down. He reached over and ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to scratch her scalp. 

She sighed and he could see her muscles relax after a moment. It wasn’t very often that he got to touch her hair, though he was finding more and more excuses to do so lately. It was so interesting in texture, soft yet strong. And in the sunlight, it practically shimmered.

“You know if a career in the military doesn’t work out for you, you could make a killing as a scalp masseuse,” she said after a minute.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He carefully combed his talons through a knot at the end, smoothing the hair when he finished. 

He could tell her. Right now. Yes, this was the perfect moment. He stilled as his heart started racing. 

_ “I don’t understand, General. I don’t have anything on my record that would constitute a reason for a denial of leave time.” _

_ “You know why, Major.” _

_ “I’m afraid I don’t, sir. If you can point to where in our mandates it explains why my leave is not allowed, I will abide by the laws.” _

_ “Your proposed leave is not just for you--” _

_ “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t made aware that Shepard is a prisoner here on Palaven.” _

_ “...She’s not, but--” _

_ “So she has the same travel restrictions as any other member of the Hierarchy?” _

_ “Technically yes, but--” _

_ “So then, I don’t understand the problem. After all, I believe it was the Primarch himself who pointed out that she is  _ my _ mate and therefore, she’s my responsibility.” _

“Don’t stop,” Shepard murmured. She scooted closer and rested her head on his thigh.

Garrus smiled down at her. “You’re incorrigible.” He resumed carding his fingers through her long red hair.

“Yes,” she simply replied. He watched a smile ghost across her face. He paused for a moment to study her and savor this moment before he told her.

“Hey, do you think Sol could spare you?” he then asked casually. He gently pressed the pads of his fingers against her scalp and moved them in small circles.

“What do you mean?” Her eyes were still closed.

Spirits, here it went. “Well, I was thinking it would be nice to go on a trip. Together.”

She hummed thoughtfully in the back of her throat. She’d been doing that more often he’d noticed, almost like her answer to his subvocals. “Probably. How long were you thinking?”

“Not too long,” he said, not able to hide the smile in his voice. “About a month.”

At that her eyes opened and she turned her head to look up at him, a confused but amused expression on her face. “And where would we go for a month?”

_ “Be that as it may, this situation is far more complicated than a simple leave and you know it, Vakarian. I will not allow this--the Hierarchy will not allow this.” _

_ “You have said it yourself: Shepard is not a prisoner, I have no demerits that would prevent my leave, and there are not mandates on the books outlawing my plan.” _

_ “Doesn’t matter. Request denied, Major.” _

_ “You misunderstand me, General. This is not a request, I am telling you: I’m going to Earth. And Shepard is coming with me.” _

“How about Earth?”

She laughed. “Ha. Ha. Sure. Let’s just go visit Earth.” She grew serious as she realized he wasn’t joking. “What?”

“I think we should visit Earth,” he repeated patiently.

She sat up and turned to face him. She blinked a few times and seemed to be having trouble coming up with words. “... _ what? _ ”

When he took her hands in his they were shaking. “Terra Goods? They make trips to and from Earth on a monthly basis. And they’re willing to let us join their next trip, provided we help out on the return trip. But I don’t think either of us are above some manual labor.” Her eyes were growing wider with every word. 

She gasped softly. “You’re serious,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t joke about this, Shepard.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ve already gotten it cleared with the Hierarchy.”

“Really?”

“Well, I told them that they have no legal recourse to keep you planetside. And since we’ll be leaving in three days, they won’t have time to draft one.”

“Three days?”

He nodded. “Three days… till we leave Palaven. Then it’s another couple days journey to Earth. We dock in Vancouver. And we’d have about two weeks there before Terra Goods leaves to return to Palaven.”

She was quiet for a long moment, staring off into the distance. “I never… I thought I’d…” She looked at him, a whole universe’s worth of wonder in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“Yes,” she breathed. All of a sudden the dam broke and a smile split across her face. “Yes! Yes, yes! Of course!” 

Then unexpectedly her lips were on his, her arms wrapped around his neck for one breathless, exuberant moment. He hardly had time to realize it was happening before it was over. She pulled back, giddy laughter tumbling out of her as if she couldn’t control it. And when she looked back to him, tears were welling in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Under her gaze, it felt like he forgot how to speak. So he squeezed her hands, hoping she understood anyway. She melted into his arms and he held her closer as if he could absorb her joy. He felt her smiling against his neck. There weren’t words to express how much this moment meant to him too. If he could give her the moons and stars, he would. But he supposed it would have to be enough that he could give her Earth.


	41. Build Your Muscles as Your Body Decays

“So we’ll water the plants on the back deck, make sure no one’s broken into the house, and throw crazy raging parties every night until you get back, got it.”

Shepard gave Sol a rueful smile as she glanced up from her checklist of dextro rations. Sol looked very sincere, though Keslia standing next to her was obviously struggling to keep a straight face. 

Their house had been turned inside out in the whirlwind of prepping for a month long intergalactic trip in only three days. It looked like a small typhoon had hit the bedroom in particular. But somehow, they had everything ready to go. Well, almost. Garrus was still packing upstairs.

“You forgot… you forgot drink all of Garrus’ good dextro liquor,” Keslia managed, snickering behind her hand.

“Oh, that’s a given,” Sol replied, leaning an elbow on the kitchen counter and slipping an arm around Keslia’s waist. “Hope he has more of that fire brandy you brought to Mom’s vigil. That was excellent.”

“He does, but we’re bringing it with us.” Shepard pointed to the large crate on the floor with her pen, not lifting her eyes from the list. Earth wouldn’t have any dextro food whatsoever, so half the trip preparation had been packing food Garrus could eat. By her calculations, he’d have plenty of food for the whole trip plus an extra week should they be delayed for any reason. She tossed in an extra box of protein bars anyway, better safe than sorry.

“Shepard,” Garrus called from upstairs. “Have you seen my--”

“It’s on the desk!”

“Thanks,” he called back after a moment.

Sol chuckled and shook her head. “Some things never change.”

Shepard knelt down and carefully shut the crate, double checking that the vacuum seals were active. Nothing inside would spoil, not on her watch.

“Are you nervous?” Keslia asked.

“Ah,” Shepard said, dusting off her knees as she stood back up. “A little, yeah.” She’d messaged Anderson to tell him that she was coming, but she hadn’t heard anything back. It looked like they’d be on their own, but that was okay. She knew that city better than any other. 

If she was honest, she was far more nervous about seeing her team again. After the disastrous call with Ashley, she hadn’t tried reaching out to them. More than a little afraid of other possible bridges that’d been burnt without her knowledge. Shepard planned to message them once she was planetside. Advantage of a surprise attack… and a guaranteed retreat. Guerilla friendship tactics. 

“Going home after being gone for a long time is always a little nerve-wracking,” Keslia empathized. 

“Yeah, but I’m definitely more excited than anything.”

“How long has it been on Earth?” Sol asked, picking up one of the handles on the crate while Shepard picked up the other.

“Almost a year and a half,” Shepard replied. They carried the crate out the front door and down the steps to where the car was parked, trunk already open and Shepard’s bag inside. It’d be a snug fit once Garrus finally finished packing, but they could make it work. “Honestly, I thought I’d never go back so to be going back at all, it’s… well, it means the world to me. Literally.”

Sol and Keslia shared a glance and a sly knowing grin. Shepard knew better now than to ask what  _ that _ meant. 

“When you get a chance, be sure to tell that to Garrus,” Sol said finally with an oddly cryptic air.

“I will.”

“Good. And speaking of,  _ Garrus! _ ” Sol shouted back at the house. “Let’s go! If you don’t double-time it, Shepard’s going to Earth without you.”

Shepard and Keslia chuckled as Garrus appeared in the front door, looking harried but finally packed. Keslia and Sol got in the front seats, and Shepard helped Garrus shove his bag into the trunk.

“Do you have everything?” he asked, scooting the crate of food over to make room.

“I think between the two of us, you’re the one that should be more worried about that,” she replied with a smile. 

“Good point.” With a final shove, the bag slotted into place. Garrus shut the trunk and gave it a solid pat. “Well… let’s go to Earth,” he said, grinning at her. Excitement radiated off of him; she couldn’t help but smile.

“Before, ah… Garrus, I’ll tell you this a thousand more times over the next month, but before we even leave, I just want to say thank you.” She reached out and gently touched his cheek, feeling his mandible flutter against her palm. “You’re the only person who understands how much this means to me, and--” She let out a breath. “There aren’t words. But I wanted you to know.”

“I know,” he replied gently. “I’m… glad to be the one to give this to you.” A soft smile hinted in his eyes as he ran a knuckle along her jaw. It felt like a small sun had suddenly caught flame inside her chest. Oh, wow. She’d kissed him once before in a bright fit of joy… and she suddenly really wanted to do it again. Half of her wondered if this was the right time, but the other half was already leaning towards him. She wanted this. She wanted this with him so badly--

_ HONK _ .

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Sol called back to them, waving a hand out the window. Sheepishly, their hands dropped away from each other. Had he been leaning towards her too? She couldn’t tell, though he did seem to be blushing as much as she was. She settled for reaching over and squeezing his hand.

“Let’s go to Earth,” she repeated with a smile.

 

Garrus had been on his fair share of intergalactic flights. Several times, the family had gone to the Citadel to visit Dad while he was at work. Even after training and a war that bounced him through various parts of the galaxy, that moment when the relay launched the ship at unimaginable speeds was still thrilling. However, very little else of the trip was exciting. Mostly quiet days and even quieter nights. As the days ticked closer to their arrival, Shepard grew quieter too, almost solemn. She still assured him that she was excited, but he could see the nerves already beginning to tint her anticipation.

Late in the trip, Garrus found Shepard standing at the artificial window in the crew deck. It was really just a display of the view out the front of the ship, but she was studying it all the same. He could make out a small planet in the center of the screen that was steadily growing larger than anything else around it. During the war, he’d never made it this close to Earth. He hadn’t realized it would be so blue.

He glanced to her, trying to read her expression as she stared at the screen. He wasn’t very successful.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked instead, quietly. She looked over at him, almost seeming surprised that he was standing right next to her. Her eyes returned to the screen again before she answered.

“Just this poem one of my pilots--well, I suppose you might meet him. His name is Steve, Steve Cortez. He had this poem he’d memorized and he’d recite it often…” she said in a low almost dreamy tone.

“What was the poem?” he asked, turning back to look at the screen. Earth was larger now. It wasn’t wholly blue, he realized, instead marbled with vast swirls of white with the faintest hint of something beneath that. 

“I don’t remember all of it, just… just a few lines,” she said quietly, staring at her home planet growing ever closer. “ _ Roads go ever ever on, under cloud and under star. Yet feet that wandering have gone turn at last to home afar. _ ” 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. 

She nodded. “Steve was always a romantic, even before he met his husband.” They watched the planet grow larger on the screen for a few minutes.

“It’s breathtaking,” he said, studying the planet. There was a vibrancy to its colors that he’d never seen any place else, not even on Palaven.

“It’s… actually here,” Shepard commented, disbelief in every syllable.

Earth filled the screen now, mountains and coastlines in gradients from green to sandy brown, deep blue oceans under large white clouds. Foreign to him, but familiar to her.

“This is the northern hemisphere.” She reached out and pointed at one of the landmasses that was now visible under the white swirls. “That’s North America.” She circled her finger over the upper part. “This is Canada.” Then she pointed to a spot on the western coast. “And that’s…” She swallowed and nodded. “That’s Vancouver.”

“We’ve been cleared for approach. All crew strap in for landing,” the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Time to touch down: twenty-three minutes.”

Garrus reached over and squeezed Shepard’s hand. It was shaking slightly. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and they went back to where the jump seats were. They strapped in. Shepard stared up at the ceiling, her knuckles whitening from her grip on her harness. He thought about saying something, but anything he came up with felt very small in the scale of what was happening to her. Twenty-three minutes. She could make it.

The ship shuddered as it entered Earth’s atmosphere, smoothing when it slowed enough and broke through to the other side. From where they were sitting, they couldn’t see the artificial window anymore, a fact that seemed to drive her mad. By Garrus’ count it was exactly and only twenty-three minutes before they had wheels on the ground, though it seemed to take nearly a full lifetime, even for him. 

Shepard was out of her seat as soon as they had the all-clear, booking it for the elevator to the cargo hold. Garrus was right behind her. If landing took a lifetime, the elevator down to the cargo bay took an eternity. Shepard was bouncing on the balls of her feet; if this took any longer she might just vibrate out of existence. 

Finally the doors opened again. Bright sunlight filled the dark bay from the large open cargo door at the far end. Unfamiliar scents and sounds were blown in by a stiff breeze. 

Shepard looked like she was hardly breathing as she jogged to the top of the ramp. She looked back at Garrus, and he nodded to her with a smile. She smiled back and then took the last few almost staggering steps forward down the ramp. From the dark of the cargo bay, it looked as though she was swallowed by sunlight.

Shepard was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cortez's poem is Roads Go Ever On by JRR Tolkien. But you probably already knew that. ;) <3, K


	42. Rich or Poor or Famous

Jet fuel. Diesel engines. Heated tarmac. Barge horns. Glinting skyscrapers. Ocean breeze. Seagull cries. Maple trees. Green grass. And blue sky. The correct blue sky.

It was here. It was truly all here. Shepard was here. The sun was warm on her shoulders. The wind was bracing on her face. She stumbled a few steps forward, looking around in complete awe. 

It was overwhelming trying to take in everything at once. She could see the spaceport in the distance across the tarmac, next to the Alliance headquarters. Across the busy harbor, the city of Vancouver stood tall and shining. She’d seen that skyline everyday for twenty-nine years, but she’d never thought it so beautiful as right then. Some deep part within her unclenched at the sight and she took in a shuddering breath, pressing her fingers to her mouth. _ Shepard _ was really here. 

“Commander Shepard,” a gruff not dual-toned voice said from behind her. She turned to see the first human she’d seen in almost nine months.

“Admiral Hackett,” Shepard said, reflexively saluting as he approached. He smiled as he walked towards her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before in the entire time she’d known him.

“You don’t have to salute me anymore, Commander,” he said, sounding amused.

“I’ll stop saluting when you stop calling me Commander, sir,” she replied, smiling too and relaxing from attention. He chuckled and held out his hand. She glanced down at it before gripping it firmly. Five fingers, cool dry skin, a professional up and down. She’d never felt so welcomed by just a handshake before.

“It’s good to see you again, Shepard.” It sounded like he actually meant it. 

“It’s good to be back,” she said, looking out at the view again. The two petty officers behind Hackett both stiffened when Garrus came into sight on the ramp up to the cargo bay. He walked nonchalantly down to stand at her side. 

“Major Vakarian, welcome to Earth,” Hackett said with a nod. 

“Thank you for allowing me to come, Admiral,” Garrus replied. If Hackett or Garrus were uncomfortable, they didn’t show it. A small mercy.

Shepard had always known that Garrus was tall, but she’d never realized how much he would tower over humans. Seeing him in the scale of her own planet, against the backdrop of the Vancouver spaceport, standing next to her former admiral… he’d never looked so alien before. Was this what she looked like to him the first time he saw her on Palaven?

Hackett gestured to a caravan of black SUVs not too far behind him. “We can give you a ride to Alliance headquarters and I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying while you’re here.”

Shepard frowned and glanced at Garrus, who seemed mystified as well. “I didn’t… I figured we’d just find a hotel.”

Hackett clasped his hands behind his back. “It was decided that it was safer for both of you to stay in Alliance housing,” he said in a crisp tone.  _ Decided by who _ , Shepard wondered suspiciously. “I won’t pretend that people are going to be happy that there’s a turian planetside. Even if it is just one.”

The memory of the near riot from the last time she was on Earth came to mind. Reactively, she scanned the fenceline, which was empty. As much as she didn’t like it, perhaps Hackett had a point.

“Captain Anderson told me about a dim sum restaurant you liked, Commander. I took the liberty of ordering lunch from there and it’ll be waiting at your quarters,” Hackett added, as if he was sweetening the deal. To be fair, her mouth immediately watered at the thought of roast pork buns and beef noodle rolls.

She glanced at Garrus who flicked a mandible noncommittally. This was to be her call, apparently.

“Alright… thank you.” She fell into step behind Hackett towards the cars. “Is Anderson at headquarters?” she asked hopefully. It would be wonderful to see him again.

“I’m afraid Anderson is off-planet at the moment.” Hackett held the door open for them.

“Oh,” she replied, disappointed, as she got in the car behind Garrus. She’d hoped that by messaging he’d be able to forestall any rotation out to one of their satellites. Maybe she hadn’t messaged in time.

Hackett shut the door and got in on the other side. “But the  _ Somme _ has been dry-docked for the last month and her crew is on temporary duty assignment here while she undergoes retrofits.”

Shepard smiled widely and spent the very short car ride over to headquarters with her face glued to the window. It was fall in Vancouver, and the deciduous trees had turned all sorts of bright colors next to the steady green of the pines. 

Inside the tall shining building, it was hard to keep herself from staring. There were humans everywhere she looked, all with hair and noses and fingers just like hers. No one gave her strange looks just for walking down a hallway, she was just another civilian here. Well, they got a few blatant double-takes, but that was probably more due to the seven foot tall turian in their party than her.

Her elation was undercut a touch when she realized that Hackett was leading them to the hospital wing of headquarters.

“What are we doing here?” she asked Hackett as they walked down the hall towards an empty waiting area.

“I asked to see you,” Dr. Chakwas said stepping through the door that lead back to the examination rooms. She nodded to Garrus before giving Shepard a quiet smile. “Frankly, I never liked the idea of you being on a completely foreign planet without medical attention. Now that you’re back, I’d like to do a check up. If you cooperate, this won’t take but ten minutes.”

Shepard smiled momentarily at Chakwas, the woman who saved her life after Mars. They’d developed a good working relationship during her recovery following the battle. Of any doctor she’d ever been treated by, Chakwas was Shepard’s favorite. Even still, she had to ask. “And if I don’t cooperate?”

“I can find enough tests to tie you up here for the rest of the day. Maybe even an overnight observation,” she threatened mildly. Shepard knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t joking. 

Shepard glanced to Garrus. “Ten minutes,” she said to him. He nodded and she followed Chakwas back into an examination room. “I still don’t think this is necessary. I haven’t had so much as a head cold while on Palaven,” Shepard said, sitting down on the table.

“Humor me, Commander. For old time’s sake.” She pulled up her omnitool and started scanning. True to her word it was a quick ten minute exam, and fairly non-invasive. Though Chakwas did take a blood sample. But before she let Shepard go, she hesitated for a moment.

“Com--Shepard… will you be honest with me? This is a safe place.”

Shepard frowned, suspicions quickly rising. “Of course.”

“Have they hurt you?” she asked, her dark eyes watching Shepard very carefully.

Shepard scoffed. “I’d like to see them try.”

Chakwas frowned and stepped closer. “Has  _ he _ hurt you?” The way Chakwas said ‘hurt’ told Shepard exactly what she was asking. A reasonable question in their eyes, Shepard was sure. Even if the idea was so impossible to her that the very question was almost absurd.

“No,” she said as sincerely as she possibly could. She tried to make Chakwas understand. “Nothing like that has happened at all… and he never would anyway.” 

Chakwas studied her for another few moments but then nodded, apparently satisfied. She smiled and squeezed Shepard’s shoulder. Five fingers, warm hand, comforting grip.

“Welcome home, Shepard.”

 

Earth was beautiful but they needed to make larger chairs, Garrus firmly decided as he sat in the waiting room. He’d only been sitting in this one for a few minutes, and already he could feel a crick beginning to form in his lower back. So he stood and walked to the large windows, deliberately ignoring the way the most junior officer in the room tightened his grip on the pistol on his belt. 

From this height, Garrus could see the way the ocean met the sky in the far distance. He’d never seen anything like it--Palaven didn’t have vast bodies of water like this. Though, surprisingly, much of what he saw was relatively familiar. Shepard hadn’t been exaggerating when she claimed that Palaven and Earth were similar in many ways.

“You picked the perfect time to visit Vancouver,” Hackett said conversationally, joining him at the window. “Late September always has beautiful weather.”

Garrus didn’t know what September was, but the view out the window was indeed beautiful. “Shepard said it could rain the whole time we’re here. Glad for her sake that it’s not.”

Hackett nodded and clasped his hands behind him back. “Shepard wasn’t very forthcoming with details in the messages she sent before she arrived. Do you… know what the plan is for your time here?”

Garrus shook his head. “I was in charge of getting us here, figured it made more sense for her to handle the rest.”

Hackett let out a noncommittal noise, and they were relegated to silence. Thankfully, they were saved from further attempts at conversation when the door opened again and Shepard bounded out.

“Clean bill of health,” she said with the same wide smile that hadn’t left her face since they landed.

“I should certainly hope so,” Garrus replied, unconsciously copying her expression.

Again they marched back down through the building to the cars. You’d think these people had never seen a turian before, he thought as the eighth person did an abrupt second take when they passed by. Though Shepard seemed to be getting as many wide-eyed stares as he did, he noticed.

It was a short drive over to where they’d be staying. Garrus was pretty sure they didn’t even leave the base, though perhaps the boundaries of Alliance bases weren’t as well defined as turian ones. They pulled into a sort of small neighborhood, two story identical houses with strangely sloped roofs and… was there wood on the exterior of the houses? Or… something of a wooden veneer, perhaps.

“On-post housing?” Shepard asked as they got out of the car. She sounded impressed. “Surprised you had any units to spare…” She looked around the very quiet street. “Or rather a whole block.”

“They’re being renovated and this unit was finished early as a showroom,” Hackett explained, heading up the front walk. “Two bed, Two bath.”

“And no neighbors,” Garrus commented to Shepard under his breath. She gave him a conspiratorial smile.

Hackett opened the door and stepped aside to let them pass. Garrus always assumed that humans preferred more color in their domestic arrangements, or at least Shepard did. There were beige walls, and a beige floors, and beige furnishings. The living room and the kitchen were one large area, and a glass door led out to a small yard in the back. The bedrooms were presumably upstairs.

“Little bit different than what the Hierarchy put us up in,” Shepard said, quietly enough so only Garrus could hear her. He returned her conspiratorial smile.

“Commander Shepard!” A woman suddenly appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her smile was almost manic. She rushed forward and grabbed Shepard’s hand, shaking it continuously as her words gushed from her. “It is an  _ honor _ to meet you, an absolute honor. I’m Ensign Kelly Chambers, but please call me Kelly.”

“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” Shepard said slowly, looking just shy of mortified. She managed to wrench her hand away, and she gestured towards him. “This is--”

Kelly’s wide-eyed smile turned on Garrus and instinctively he stepped back. “And  _ you _ must be Major Vakarian.” Her hand shot out towards him.

Shepard stepped between him and the interloper. “Kelly, turians don’t shake hands.”

Her overbright smile suddenly turned into shock. “Oh, I am  _ so _ sorry, Major.” She clasped her hands to her chest tightly. “Please forgive me.”

He glanced at Shepard, more than a little perturbed. “It’s quite alright,” he said slowly.

Kelly stepped around Shepard, closer to him. The way she was staring at him made him feel very uncomfortable, like he was a specimen to be examined. “You’re the first turian I’ve ever met.” Her eyes went wider still. “...I didn’t expect you to be so tall. Be sure to watch your head going through doorways.”

“...Okay,” he replied, unsure if there was a correct answer to her comment. It must have been because she suddenly shifted her attention back to Shepard. 

“Well, I have lunch all ready in the kitchen,” Kelly said, waving a hand to the room. “Do you want me to unpack for you while you eat?”

“I don’t--what?” Shepard turned from Kelly to Hackett, her eyes bewildered.

“Kelly is here as your liaison for this trip,” Hackett explained in a clipped tone as he left for the kitchen.

“I’m a native of Vancouver, you see--” Kelly explained.

“As am I,” Shepard said back in a very measured tone. She followed her formal admiral into the kitchen. Garrus quickly followed after her, he really didn’t want to be left alone with Kelly. “Hackett, this really isn’t necessary. I can find my way around just fine.”

Hackett let out a short beleaguered sigh. “It’s not so much a worry that you’ll get lost, Commander, but rather that we don’t want you to be found by the wrong people.”

Shepard tensed. “That doesn’t mean I need a babysitter--”

“Don’t think of me as a babysitter, Commander,” Kelly said, suddenly behind Garrus. He flinched and then stepped away from her. “Think of me as your guide and your helper. I’m here to assist in any way I can to make sure that your trip is smooth and stress-free.”

Shepard gave her a flat look. “...Right.” But she noticed the losing battle they were facing. “Fine.”

“Well, I have to get back to work.” Hackett drifted back towards the front door. “If you need anything, I’m sure Kelly will happily help you.” 

“Yes, sir!” Kelly replied with a professional salute. The door shut behind him. Shepard gave Garrus a significant look and turned to where the pungent containers had been arranged on the counter. There were a few moments of peace while Shepard investigated the food, but it was, of course, broken again by their ‘guide’.

“If I may, Commander,” Kelly said, coming to stand on the other side of the counter.  Shepard made an effort to keep a pleasant expression. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for an autograph? My brother is a big fan of yours and he’s thrilled to bits that I’m working with you this week.”

“I… suppose,” Shepard said, sounding very unsure. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Right here.” Kelly held out a small notepad to her. Shepard took it and quickly scribbled her signature on the page. Garrus knew because he could read what she’d written.

“...Shepard, that’s in turian,” he pointed out quietly.

She glanced up at them then back to her page. “Oh. Sorry--been a while since I’ve had to write in anything but.” She quickly scratched a line through it and wrote something that Garrus couldn’t read. “There.”

Kelly smiled brightly and giggled. “My brother’s going to  _ love _ this.” She then dropped down on one of the stools tucked under the counter, obviously intending to stay for a while. Much to both his dismay and Shepard’s. “So any big plans for your first day back home?”

Shepard shook her head and opened one of the containers. A savory aroma immediately filled the room; Garrus almost wished he could eat whatever was in there. It looked like some sort of steamed bun. “Ah, no. Just unpack, get our sea legs--oh, is there a terminal here? I want to get in touch with my team.”

Kelly perked up. “The squad from the  _ Somme _ ? I’ve already told them that you’re here.”

Shepard’s expression froze. “...Thanks, Kelly.”

But Kelly didn’t notice her unease. “No problem whatsoever.”

Shepard was very obviously done with dealing with Kelly. Garrus wondered if there was a way he could get her to leave when Shepard tackled the problem head on before he could say anything. 

“Listen, Kelly,” she began in a patronizing tone. “We’re both rather jetlagged from the trip, different time zone on Palaven, I’m sure you understand--”

Kelly’s overly humble expression suddenly appeared on her face. “Oh, of course! Let me get out of your hair.” She quickly picked up a small bag and a few datapads from a chair in the living room. Shepard ushered her towards the front door. “Now if you need anything, my number is on the fridge. Don’t be shy. I’m only a message or call away.”

Shepard gripped the open front door and gave her a grimacing smile as she all but pushed her to the other side. “Okay, bye-bye, Kelly.”

“Bye Comma--” The door shut with a solid thud. Shepard let out a breath and leaned back against it, pinching her brow.

Garrus frowned at her quizzically. “You know that Terra Goods’ ship adjusted us to local time over the journey, right?”

She looked up and gave him a wicked smile that did all sorts of confusing things to his gut. “I know that and you know that.” Shepard pointed at the closed door behind her. “But Kelly doesn’t know that.”

He chuckled. “Ah, I see. Devious.” She winked at him as she headed back for the temporarily abandoned steamed buns. Garrus looked around at the strangely decorated house they found themselves in. “Sorry this trip is already turning out different than you’d hoped.”

She glanced up from the food and shrugged. It took her a few chews before she could speak. “Eh, it wouldn’t be Earth without the Alliance dictating my every move.”

He frowned but decided to let it go. Further investigation did reveal the bedrooms upstairs. Garrus tried to not be too pleased at how Shepard immediately put her things into the same room as him without question. Clothes and food were tucked away, and Shepard was very pleased to discover a small balcony off their bedroom. There wasn’t room for much else out there besides two chairs, and even that was cozy, but the view was stunning. The sun had started to set, painting the sky with vibrant colors. Fuschias and periwinkles and colors he wasn’t sure he had words for. He wished he’d thought to bring some of his painting supplies. They didn’t bother speaking much, just quietly admired the view together.

As night truly began, they drifted back downstairs for a quiet evening together. The chairs at the Alliance headquarters may have been too small, but the couch was terribly comfortable. Garrus was definitely a fan of the way he sunk down into the cushions, and the way Shepard, who had been sitting nearby, was sucked into the gravitational pull of his cushiony black hole. She wound up half curled up in his lap and her head resting on his shoulder before fifteen minutes had gone by. Maybe they could get one of these for their home, he half-hoped as he ran a lazy talon up and down her arm. But the solace was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Shepard’s head snapped up and she looked to the front of the house. “Dear god, she’s back.”

“Do you want me to answer it?” he offered, hoping she wouldn’t take him up on the offer.

“No,” she sighed, standing and disappearing around the corner. “I’ll figure out some excuse to get her to leave.”

Garrus relaxed back for a moment, grateful to be out of view of the door. When suddenly there was a very loud noise of many voices all yelling at once and several large thuds. Hackett’s earlier warning suddenly leaped to mind as Garrus jumped to his feet and dashed around the corner, fearing the worst. However, what he found was a large pile of joyfully noisy humans, several of whom he recognized. Shepard’s squad must have gotten Kelly’s message. He could hear Shepard laughing from somewhere near the bottom of the pile. 

He backed around the corner, wanting to give her this reunion with her team untarnished by his presence. He wondered if he should go upstairs and give her the evening with them, but before he could decide the whole loud crew appeared in the living room. On instinct, he immediately snapped to attention. He watched as the smiles dropped off all their faces except Shepard’s. 

Looking at the group, Garrus was suddenly reminded that they had been at war less than two years ago. He became very aware that if they wanted to the five of them could easily overpower him. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought of this; Garrus noticed Major Alenko reactively reach for his hip where a pistol could be stored. Thankfully, he appeared unarmed. Was this how Shepard felt like all the time on Palaven, this continual awareness of her own vulnerability? His gut clenched at the thought. 

Whether Shepard noticed the obvious hesitation between the two halves of the room, Garrus couldn’t tell as she immediately stepped to stand next to him.

“Guys, this is Garrus Vakarian,” she introduced. “Garrus, this is Steve Cortez, Kaidan Alenko, James Vega, Samantha Traynor, and Jeff Moreau, but we call him Joker.”

There were several seconds of tense silence as every one of them had to choose how the evening was going to proceed. It was broken when Lieutenant Vega looked at his fellow soldiers and then stepped forward.

“Nice to meet you, Garrus. Welcome to Earth,” he said, jovially. He clapped a friendly hand on Garrus’ shoulder as he pushed past to head to the kitchen. “Are all turians this tall? I don’t remember them being this tall.”

The rest of the group relaxed and Garrus in particular noticed Shepard’s relieved smile.


	43. For Your Truth, it's All the Same

“Shepard!” Joker declared in his most auspicious voice, standing before her on the couch as if she was holding court in her living room. He had something behind his back. “On this occasion of your triumphant return to Earth--”

“Or temporary vacation to Earth,” Traynor added under her breath. Shepard laughed into the beer can that Vega had given her without needing to ask. Kaidan and Cortez were arguing with the terminal in the corner, trying to find a decent internet music station. Even with the addition of Garrus, and the obvious absence of Ashley, the atmosphere still felt relaxed, exactly as she remembered it.

Joker glared at Traynor. “ _ Fine _ , triumphant vacation to Earth, I bring you the finest of Earth delicacies.” He whipped from behind him a paper bag with an unmistakable logo and held it out to her. “ _ Bon appetit _ !”

Shepard laughed as she took the bag from him and opened it. “Jesus, Joker, how many cheeseburgers did you buy?” She unwrapped one of the many burgers and inhaled the familiar aroma. 

He shrugged. “Well, I figured you had a year and a half to make up for so… a butt-ton.”

She bit into the sandwich and moaned a little around the thoroughly mediocre taste. Oh, baby, that’s the stuff. She licked a bit of ketchup off her thumb and gave Joker a grateful grin.

“You want a taste?” she asked Garrus, sitting next to her. She tore off part of the burger and offered it to him.

He raised a skeptical brow plate. “Why not?” He took the bit and tossed it back. He chewed thoughtfully and then shuddered. “That’s  _ awful _ ,” he said, coughing a little as Vega and Joker chuckled.

“Yeah it is!” Joker grabbed a few burgers out of the bag and tossed them to Traynor and Vega as Garrus continued to cough.

 

Garrus hunted through the cabinets, trying to figure out where Shepard had stored his protein bars. He needed something to wash the taste of whatever a cheeseburger was out of his mouth. Ah-hah, here they were. He quickly pulled out his preferred flavor as Major Alenko walked into the kitchen.

Garrus made himself remain relaxed and returned Alenko’s polite nod.

“Major,” he said.

“Major,” Garrus replied. Alenko smiled a little at the coincidence. 

“So how was your flight?” he asked, leaning against one of the counters.

“Fine…” Garrus started opening the bar. “Punctual,” he added after a moment.

Alenko nodded slowly. “Is it very far to Palaven from Earth?”

Garrus shook his head. “Relatively, no. Only a few days once you hit the relay.”

“Right, right.” 

“How’s the… weather been here in Vancouver?”

“Pretty good, some rain. But that’s to be expected for fall.”

Now Garrus nodded slowly. He didn’t think that he’d ever had a conversation that was so consciously cordial before. It was a bit stifling, if he was honest. A moment passed and then another as Garrus struggled to come up with something more to say to this man.

Thankfully, Vega saved them both. “Hey  _ Viejo _ , can you grab me another beer while you’re in there?” he yelled from the living room.

Alenko rolled his eyes a little. “Fine.” He grabbed another can from the fridge and glanced back to Garrus. “Well, I, uh, better get back out there.”

“Right. It’s nice to meet you, finally,” Garrus offered sincerely. “Shepard always had a lot of stories about her team and it’s nice to put faces to the names.”

Kaidan gave him an actual smile then. “Did she tell you about the rope swing?”

“Yeah, she did. Showed me the vid too.”

He chuckled. “Of course she did.” And he left the kitchen.

 

“Wait, wait, wait--hold on a second!” Vega waved a hand so that the rest of the group stopped talking for a moment. A feat in and of itself, truly. He turned wide, fervent eyes back to Shepard. “Now you’re telling me that there’s a whole planet out there made of  _ entirely _ hot blue women and we had to run into the bird dinosaurs that look like the villains from some early twenty-first century video game??” he demanded, incredulously. He glanced at the turian sitting to Shepard’s right. “No offense, Garrus,” he quickly added.

“That’s not how that works, Vega,” Shepard pushed back. Garrus still laughed a little anyway; she was awfully proud of how patient he was with her weird friends. She took a sip of her beer to make Vega squirm a little longer. “But basically, yes.”

“ _ Puta madre _ !” Vega jumped out of his seat and paced away. Shepard noticed that both Joker and Traynor looked intrigued at the idea of a planet of just beautiful blue women.

“Now, that’s not  _ entirely _ accurate,” Garrus drawled, leaning forward in his seat a little. Everyone looked his way. “...Some asari are purple.”

The entire group laughed as Vega continued to swear in Spanish. 

 

Garrus smiled as he watched Shepard keep up magnificently with the push up contest that had spontaneously started between her, Vega, and Alenko out in the backyard. Traynor and Cortez were supposed to be refereeing, but mostly they just seemed to be cheering Shepard on. Vega was trying to point out the unfair bias, but everytime he started he fell behind.

Without any sort of warning, Joker dropped down on the couch next to Garrus. He opened another beer and took a swig. “So what ships did you serve on in the war?” he asked, casually.

Garrus froze momentarily. Despite the relaxed nature of the gathering, none of the soldiers had brought up the war. Something that felt very intentional on all their parts. But still, Joker had asked. “I… I was on a few different ones, more ground trooper than naval. Spent some time on the  _ Havincaw _ and the…  _ Dauntless. _ ”

Joker’s eyes widened a little and he gave a low whistle. Oh yes, he definitely heard of that ill fated ship. Thankfully, he side-stepped the topic. “So what’s your specialty then? Tanks? Drones? Melee?”

“I’m a sniper.”

“A turian sniper.” He grinned. “You ever meet Archangel?” 

“Well… I was Archangel.”

Joker sputtered his sip of beer. “No way. Are you joking?”

Garrus shook his head and Joker let out an astonished laugh. 

“That’s incredible! I kind of thought you were a myth. Guess I was  _ myth-taken _ .”

Garrus smiled a little as Joker laughed at his own joke.

“Man, it’s a bummer the war ended so fast, never got a chance to earn a scary codename of my own. ...Maybe Shepard would let me borrow Flaming Death occasionally,” Joker mused thoughtfully.

Garrus laughed, surprised and a little unnerved at how easy this conversation felt. “Do that at your own risk.”

“So Shepard mentioned that you work with the Hierarchy’s ships, is that right?”

Garrus nodded a little. “I’m not a pilot or anything--”

“Well, not all of us can be perfect,” he replied with a grin. “Now is it because of the flat design that makes it possible for the frigates to get those tight curves? ‘Cause man, I’d  _ kill _ to be able to make some of the turns I was seeing...”

“Perhaps--Joker, I’m sorry, but… why are you being ...nice?”

His eyebrows lifted a little. “Would you rather I be mean? ‘Cause I can do that.”

“No, it’s just…” Garrus paused to parse what he was feeling. “Not what I was prepared for.”

Joker shrugged his shoulders and took another sip. “I don’t know about the rest of them, but I trust Shepard. And if she’s alright with you, then I am too.”

Garrus hummed. “I didn’t know that humans had such faith in their commanders.”

“Maybe humans don’t, but we do. In case you haven’t realized this yet, Shepard’s kind of special. It was an honor to serve on her team.”

They both looked to the backyard as cheers broke out. Shepard had won the push up contest and was running a victory lap around the backyard. No, Garrus had definitely already realized she was special.

 

“So who’s this Kelly person that mailed us?” Traynor asked, leaning against the mailbox and taking a bite from a long gone cold cheeseburger.

The night was rather balmy for September so the party had drifted out of doors. Shepard was actually glad now that they didn’t have neighbors as it was getting late and they were making a lot of noise.

“Our Alliance-approved babysitter,” Shepard explained bitterly, sipping her possibly seventh beer of the night. She’d lost count, but she could make a guess based on how tingly her fingertips felt. It was nice to know how booze was going to affect her before she drank it.

Cortez shook his head and laughed a little. “That sounds like the Alliance. Unhappy unless they know exactly what you’re up to.”

“And even then, still kind of pissy,” Traynor added.

“On your marks,” Joker yelled, standing out in the street with the rest of the group. “Get set…” Vega and Alenko both took running stances while Garrus gave them odd looks, obviously confused at why they were crouching. “GO!” All three of them took off down the street, Garrus immediately taking an early lead.

“So do you have a curfew or something?” Traynor asked.

Shepard shrugged her shoulders. “Probably. We’ll have to test it and find out, won’t we?”

“If you need any help with dodging her, count me in,” Traynor said with a wicked smile.

“Me too,” Cortez added. 

“I might take you up on that.” Shepard watched Vega trip over his own feet and wipe out before reaching the half-way mark. Alenko was giving it his best effort to keep up, but Garrus looked like he was barely trying as he headed back to the finish line. “I’d really like to show Garrus around Vancouver, and I doubt that’ll be possible with  _ Kelly _ in tow.”

She smiled as Garrus sailed over the finish line far ahead of Alenko. Vega was still picking himself up off the asphalt.

“You good, Vega?” Joker yelled. Vega gave a thumbs up in return.

“Good job, Garrus,” Shepard said, beaming up at him as he trotted near. “Nice to know you can win a foot race against drunk humans.” 

“Should add it to my record,” he replied, matching her grin. He wasn’t even winded. “Right below best sniper in my division, and above Once Made Commander Shepard Fly Off a Treadmill.”

“Now that’s story we  _ have _ to know,” Traynor insisted as Shepard groaned.

 

It was truly a marvel of human engineering that all five of the humans were able to fit into Traynor’s tiny car at the end of the night, though Vega, Alenko, and Cortez didn’t look too happy about being squeezed in the backseat. It was a bit of a process to get them all in, interrupted by hugs for Shepard and planning of future gatherings. Joker happily waved to the two of them as Traynor pulled out of the driveway.

“See you tomorrow, Shepard!” Joker yelled out the open window.

“Yep, see you at Hudson’s!” she yelled back.

“Nice meeting you, Garrus,” Vega yelled, finding some elbow room by hanging out the back window. Garrus smiled and lifted a hand to wave back. They stayed on the front lawn, waving good-bye till the car turned the corner and drove out of sight.

Shepard let out a happy sounding sigh. She caught his eye and she nodded a little. “This… this is what I was hoping this trip could be,” she said softly.

“I think they missed you almost as much as you missed them,” he replied, turning for the front door. He stopped when she caught his hand. She held it in both of hers and stepped closer, her salt and soap scent drifting towards him on a gentle breeze.

“Thank you for making friends with them. It means a lot.”

He nodded a little. “They’re important to you. So they’re important to me.”

She looked truly touched, starlight reflected in her wide eyes. The moment grew tense, an almost magnetic pull between them. His breathing slowed as he wondered if this shouldn’t be the moment that he tried to say something. Was this it? Was this right? 

After a breathless few seconds on the precipice, he backed away from the metaphorical edge and dropped her gaze. The pull disappeared immediately, leaving him disappointed with himself. She squeezed his hand and then let go, heading inside. He waited until the door shut behind her, then smacked his palm against his forehead.  _ How many more golden moments are you going to let slip by, Vakarian? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact: I mapped out the very end of this fic yesterday. And y'all. Y'all. I'm excited and you should be too. :D


	44. Lock Your Door, but Rain is Pouring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an /awful/ day at work, so here. Have a chapter early. :) <3, K

“This is so exciting. Have you ever been to Hudson’s before?” Kelly gushed as she and Shepard walked up the crowded sidewalk. Alliance marines filled these blocks near the base wall to wall every night. That hadn’t changed in a year and a half, and Shepard doubted it ever would. 

“Oh, only once a week for about six years,” Shepard replied dryly. Kelly laughed as if it was a joke. She wished Garrus was here to give a sarcastic look to. But given that she was going to a military bar and he was a  _ turian _ they both figured it’d be better for him to sit this activity out.

Shepard shoved her hands further in her hoodie pockets and walked a little faster. She was sure that she wasn’t going to be able to lose Kelly, but at least she wasn’t going to make it easy on her. Shepard grinned as she saw the flickering neon sign for Hudson’s come into view. There were several bars on the strip of commercial land near the base, but this one had always been her favorite. Perhaps because Anderson had brought her here first so many years ago. 

Shepard grabbed the brass handle and pushed the wooden door open, savoring the immediate rush of conversation, music, and booze that swept over her. It was busy, busier than she expected it to be on a Wednesday night. The bartenders were moving efficiently to churn through their crowd of customers. Some rock song that Shepard didn’t recognize blared over the speakers. She looked up to the balcony and there she saw Kaidan waving her up. She nodded and headed for the stairs.

“Ladies and gentlemen and all the rest of us unwashed masses!” Joker’s voice suddenly rang out above the crowd. Shepard stopped half-way up the stairs to look back towards the bar where Joker had managed to find a table to stand on. Every face in the bar was turned towards him. “It is my great honor to inform you that  _ this _ is a night you will all remember for the rest of your lives! For this night, you are in the presence of an Alliance legend! She’s scourge of the turian fleet, the hero of Mars, and let’s all give a big welcome home cheer for the one, the only. Commander. Jane. Shepard!!” He pointed in her direction and everyone turned towards her. 

Cheers and shouts echoed through the building and every face she saw was absolutely ecstatic. She smiled out at the crowd and raised her hand in salute.

“Who’s like us?” she shouted.

“Damn few!” the bar roared back.

“And they’re all dead,” she said, snapping off her salute. The cheers returned louder than before and Shepard made her way up the stairs, Kelly still trailing behind her. Everyone she passed by wanted to shake her hand or tell her ‘welcome back’. It was overwhelming and she was grateful when she made it to the usual table at the back of the balcony.

“Busy for Wednesday,” she said to Kaidan, dropping into a chair. Kelly found a spot nearby, out of earshot but within view.

Kaidan chuckled. “They’re all here for you.”

“For me?” She frowned. There had been a bit of this celebrity status after the fall of Mars, but nothing to this extent.

“Haven’t you heard the rumor floating around base that Admiral Hackett was spotted recently in the company of not only a turian but also  _ the _ Commander Shepard?” he said with a smile.

She had to laugh a little, guess their parade through HQ couldn’t go unnoticed. Not surprising, not even a small country church could hold a candle to the Alliance rumor mill.

“Listen, before the others get here,” Kaidan said, leaning a little closer so he didn’t have to speak so loud to be heard. “I’ve been doing some thinking about your situation, and I think I figured out a solution.”

She frowned again. “What?”

“I think I’ve figured out a way for you to escape.”

Shepard’s eyes went wide, she stared at him to see if he was joking. To her dismay, he was deadly serious. And before she could even think about it, the strangest thing left her mouth. “Why?”

“Because you’re my friend and I don’t want to see you victimized and shipped half-way across the galaxy again.”

“No, I mean--” And she finally caught herself before she blurted ‘why would I want to escape’. She frowned deeper, her dismay turning inward.

“My uncle has a cabin up past the North Shores. He’s a prepper so there’s years’ worth of food and supplies there. And I figure that Garrus  _ has _ to leave because if he stays on Earth, he’ll starve, right? I don’t have all the details of how to sneak you past the Alliance yet.” He looked pointedly in the direction of Kelly. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Over Kaidan’s shoulder, Shepard saw Joker and the rest of the crew struggling to make their way towards them through the very crowded balcony. She didn’t have a lot of time.

“Kaidan, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t. I--I know I’ve been discharged technically, but… I can’t abandon my post.” She hated how crest-fallen he looked. “Not to mention how much diplomatic jeopardy I could plunge the Alliance into with the Hierarchy if I disappeared. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I understand,” he said after a moment. The rest of the crew dropped in at that moment and they were prevented from discussing it further. 

Whether it was the bar or the booze, her mood quickly turned around. It felt so good to be back, sitting at this table, seeing these people. It was almost like she never left. Except the last time she did this with her team, she hadn’t looked forward to the eventual end of the night so much. Of course, the last time she didn’t have someone that she was crazy about waiting for her back home.

As if she’d summoned him by thought alone, her omnitool pinged with a message. Since everyone except Traynor and Cortez were down getting more drinks, she quickly checked it.

‘Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite mate? I just found the fire brandy.’ 

Shepard smiled down at the message and typed a quick reply. ‘Had to do something to beat out all your other mates. Competition was getting fierce.’

‘Don’t worry, you won that competition a long time ago.’

When she looked up, Traynor was looking at her closely. “Who’s the message from, Shepard?” she asked, a little too innocently.

“Garrus,” Shepard replied with a shrug as she closed her omnitool.

Traynor suddenly dropped her glass to the table top with a solid clink. “Oh. My god.”

“What?” Shepard asked, wary of how wide Traynor’s eyes had become.

She stared at her for a moment. “You’re into Garrus.” Shepard’s mouth dropped open and her heart rate immediately spiked.

Cortez frowned at Traynor. “What? No, she’s not,” he insisted. They both observed her for a moment as Shepard struggled to say something, to say  _ anything _ . Now his eyes went wide and he lowered his gin and tonic. “Oh my god,” he said softly.

Shepard’s breathing suddenly went very shallow and a cold sweat broke out along her spine. This was just like what happened with Ashley, only a thousand times worse. Would they let her leave quietly? Or just start yelling--

“Hey, hey,” Traynor said, quietly. She moved to the chair next to Shepard and Cortez did the same. She put a hand on Shepard’s forearm. “It’s okay.”

Shepard looked between their two sympathetic faces, blinking in shock. “It is?” she asked in a small voice.

Cortez nodded. “Of course,” he said firmly.

“I mean, I won’t pretend that I understand why,” Traynor clarified. “But if anyone’s going to understand  _ how _ , we will.”

Cortez hummed in agreement. “You don’t get to pick these things.”

Shepard looked between them, a little dizzy with the alcohol and the sudden burst of adrenaline. She swallowed and shook her head slowly. “No, you don’t.”

They both sat back in their chairs, but didn’t move away from her. Traynor took a long sip from her old fashioned. “So how long have you known?” she asked, gently but moving back towards teasing. The return to normalcy helped her come down the rest of the way. 

“A…  few months.”

“Have you told him?” Cortez asked, leaning an elbow on the table.

Shepard shook her head. “No.”

Traynor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think he’s into you?”

Shepard thought for several seconds. There had been times recently when she wondered. Surely, they had moved beyond just friends, but whether he had moved all the way to whatever the next stage was-- “I’m not sure,” she admitted.

Cortez blew out a breath. “Oof, been there.”

“Me too. Don’t worry, Commander. If he breaks your heart, we’ll all team up and take him down for you,” Traynor said emphatically. Cortez nodded. 

Shepard was a little speechless at the short conversation. They knew, and they still considered her their friend. It felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. 

“Thanks, guys,” Shepard said, sincerely, as the rest of their party returned triumphant from the bar. 

Vega put down a truly astonishing number of shot glasses on the table. “Alright! Who wants what? I got a little of everything.”

Shots were quickly divvied and they all held up the small glasses. 

“What should we toast to first, Commander?” Kaidan asked. They all looked her way.

Shepard thought for a moment, reminded suddenly of the first time they did this ritual. It was in a bar not too dissimilar from this one, but thousands of lightyears away. She held her glass a little higher. “To Opportunity, the best damn colony that Mars will ever have. We’ll honor your memory.”

“Oorah!” they shouted and then they all shot back their glasses. Shepard coughed a little and everyone laughed.

“Out of practice, Commander?” Joker teased with a wide smile.

“Asari liquor doesn’t burn like shitty vodka--seriously Vega, I will pay you to buy better swill than this.”

“It’s better after the third shot,” he insisted, replacing her empty glass with another of the same. They repeated the process several times over, toasting the  _ Somme _ and Anderson; Cortez toasted to friendship which Joker rolled his eyes at but Shepard was touched. By the end, the room was wavering pleasantly and Shepard couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

Of course, someone else was there to do it for her.

“Alliance is just being coy, should have nuked the damn skull faces when we had the chance,” a new voice slurred from a few feet behind her before spitting on the floor. Shepard stiffened, pushing down her sudden need to stand up and say something.

“Raging monsters from space, turns out all the movies were true! Hide your children, hide the women! Turians’ll slaughter ‘em all in their sleep without a second thought.”

Shepard grimaced and tightened her grip on her glass. She shouldn’t engage, he was just drunk. And she was too, if she was honest.

“I tell you the only good turian’s a dead turian.”

That was the last straw, Shepard stood up suddenly and was facing the very drunk lieutenant before she even knew what she was doing. She’d never seen this man before, and he took her in with a slurring look.

“Take that back,” she told him, coldly.

He frowned at her for a moment. “What are you some sort of fan of the turians, N7?” he goaded, poking the stripe on her shoulder. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about--”

A spark ignited in his face. “The hell I don’t! I fought those spiky bastards myself, I was there when we lost Mars. They slaughtered everyone--there were  _ children _ on Opportunity.”

“The children were  _ spared _ .”

He stepped closer, getting right up into her face. “You saying you’re okay with the slaughter of fifty-four thousand civilians, is that it?”

“I’m as okay with that as with the killing of wounded, which is exactly what the Alliance did to the  _ Dauntless _ ,” she spat back.

“The Alliance did what they had to--”

“No, the Alliance picked a fight that they knew they couldn’t win. If it’s anyone’s fault that four and a half million soldiers are dead, it’s ours!”

If she hadn’t been drinking, she would have seen the punch coming. But as it was, she didn’t see it until it was colliding with her nose, sending her reeling back into the table. Immediately, her squad surrounded them both, holding him back and bringing her back up to her feet.

“What’s your problem, man?” Kaidan said, hauling her new friend away with the help of Cortez and Joker.

Even despite the sudden erupted chaos, Shepard could still hear the lieutenant yell at her as they hauled him away. “TRAITOR!”

Shepard flinched and not just from her throbbing nose.

Kelly was pulling a truly astonishing number of tissues out of her purse and wadding them up for Shepard, as her nose was bleeding profusely. “I think it might be broken, Commander,” she said apologetically.

Vega put a hand on her shoulder. “My jeep’s out back, I can take you to the hospital.” 

Shepard was quickly ushered outside and they headed for the nearest ER, leaving everyone except Vega and a very nervous Kelly behind. Shepard focused on not becoming ill with the flashing street lights and the bleeding and the booze.

“Hey, what was that?” Vega hedged after several minutes, sounding very uneasy.

“What was what?” Shepard replied, still trying to staunch the flow of blood from her nose.

“You… standing up for the Hierarchy in there.” He glanced her way as he changed lanes. “You okay, Shepard?”

Shepard blinked a few times at him, realizing what she had just done. It had felt so natural to speak out at the time, but now she realized how she must have sounded to her team, how she must have looked. She stood by her defense. She knew she was right even if no one else in that bar would agree with her. But it was a strange feeling, to be so out of place amongst people just like her. Perhaps they had less in common than she thought.

She shook her head and blew out a breath. “Sorry, Vega. Guess I just had a little too much to drink.”

He was looking at her warily, every bit still the young marine with total faith in his superiors, in her. He nodded a little and she could see him set the idea that Commander Shepard had gone rogue aside as they arrived at the hospital. “We’ve all been there, Commander. Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

 

Garrus was beginning to think that perhaps the selection of human vids Shepard had shown him were the best ones they made. With her being gone to the bar all evening, he’d decided to investigate the television, as she called it. Though the vid he’d stumbled across of some sort of competitive baking show was oddly captivating. Competition vids on Palaven were never set in rural pastel tents with all the contestants hugging after one was eliminated. It was fascinating. In fact he didn’t realize how deeply he’d been drawn into the vid series till he heard the front door opening.

He glanced at the time, oh wow it was later than he thought it was. He turned it off and looked towards the front hall, but no one appeared.

“Shepard?” he called.

“Yeah, it’s me.” But strangely she still didn’t walk into the next room. “Listen, before you see me… I’m fine.”

Now he was concerned. He stood quickly and moved to the hall. “What do you mea--Spirits, your nose!”

There was a bright red gash across her hugely swollen and discolored nose, dark purple circles had formed under her eyes. 

She held out her hands. “It’s fine! It’s fine, really. It’s not even broken, just swollen is all.”

“What the hell happened?” He crossed to her and tilted her head to examine the injury up close. 

She shook her head as much as she could, which wasn’t very much from how he was holding her face, and shrugged her shoulders. “It was just some guy at the bar… It’s not a big deal.”

He huffed in frustration as her continual attempts to downplay her injury. “Not a big--Shepard, your face looks like someone took a boot to it.”

“It looks worse than it is,” she protested weakly.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and headed for the bathroom upstairs. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing at the counter. She did as he said, though there was a slight smile on her face that was both parts infuriating and adorable.

He grabbed the medigel from his bag in the other room and returned to examine the wound more closely now in the light. He could smell the acrid scent of antiseptic covering the whole swollen area; perhaps she’d seen a medical professional.

“Did you see a doctor?” he asked and she nodded. “What did they say?” 

“She gave me some drugs for the pain and swelling, but otherwise since it’s not broken, it’s just gotta heal.”

He snorted in disbelief and cracked open the tube of medigel. “Barbaric,” he muttered, squeezing a generous portion onto his finger. 

She was smirking when he moved closer to her, standing in between her knees. 

“Tilt your head back a little,” he directed before smoothing the gel over the bridge of her nose. She winced, so he took her hand in his free one; she squeezed it when he started again but stayed still this time. 

As carefully as he possibly could, he covered her nose. Then he swept across the dark bruises under her eyes, her eyelashes brushing his finger when she blinked. 

After he was done, he cupped her jaw and stroked his thumb over her cheek as the medigel began to work. He could pretend that he was just supervising its progress, but really he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her face. That magnetic pull was back.

“Try not to get injured again,” he whispered, anything louder feeling far too much in the moment. “I only packed the one tube of medigel.”

“I’ll try,” she whispered back. 

They were so close now, he could feel her breath on his face. How he’d managed to find another golden opportunity, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t letting this one slip by. He closed the remaining distance between them, tilting his forehead down to kiss her. Her eyes drifted shut as she pressed back against him, gentle but sure. It was comforting to be able to share this gesture of affection with her. He still wasn’t sure how to kiss her like a human would, but he so very desperately wanted to try. 

He tilted his head, brushing his mouth softly against her lips. Her eyes opened again, staring up at him for only a breath, and then she leaned forward and kissed him. It was soft and warm and intimate and he wasn’t sure how to reciprocate at all or where to put his hands all of a sudden, but it was  _ good. _ His heart felt like it might beat straight out of his carapace. He pressed back against her, eagerness overwhelming control for a moment and she pulled away, hissing a little. Spirits, he’d bumped her nose.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, regretfully feeling the moment already pass. She gave him a forgiving smile and gently touched her nose, wincing as she did.

“I think it still needs some time to finish working.” It was some consolation that she sounded as regretful as he did about it. There’d be time later to try again, he decided. And try he would.

He offered her a smile and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Do you want to watch a vid with me?” he asked. “I found a baking one I think you’ll like.”

“Sounds perfect.”


	45. Through Your Window Pane

Shepard groaned as her omnitool pinged her awake. She was so sure that she’d turned off her alarms before they left on this trip. Garrus behind her made a very turian clicking noise and curled around her tighter, the arm thrown over her waist pulling her closer. He obviously wasn’t too happy about the rude awakening either. 

A bleary look to the window told her that it was much earlier than she had planned to get up. Her omnitool pinged again and Shepard sighed, seeing that wasn’t an alarm at all but rather a call. She silenced it and settled back into the pillows.

“What was that?” Garrus mumbled, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

“Kelly was calling,” she yawned. Her eyes drifted shut. When the omnitool started pinging again, she shut it off without looking at it. Kelly could damn well wait until at  _ least _ eight AM. When the omnitool pinged again, Garrus reached over and answered it for her.

“There better be a good reason for this, Kelly,” he growled. Neither of them were particularly cheerful in the mornings, let alone when they’d been woken unwillingly.

“Commander?” Traynor’s surprised voice came from the tinny speakers. Crap.

“Hey Traynor, sorry about that.” Shepard sat up, but Garrus just shoved his head into the warm space she vacated. So dramatic. “Thought you were--never mind. Everything okay?”

“Have you turned on a television yet this morning?”

“No, haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.” Shepard switched programs on her omnitool and turned on the television on the dresser in the corner. “Why?”

Her question was answered as the Alliance News Network broadcast started playing.

“--just a rumor, we now have confirmation that Jane Shepard, the so called Hero of Mars and former commander in the Alliance, is here in Vancouver, along with a turian soldier.”

Now Garrus sat up. “Is that the reporter who interviewed us?”

“Yes,” Shepard replied through gritted teeth.

“Shepard, a former lifelong resident of Vancouver, was spotted in a local bar last night. We have here some footage shot by an Alliance officer,” Khalisah said professionally.

A shot of Shepard on the stairs at Hudson’s started playing. She watched herself smile widely and raise her arm in a salute, shouting the familiar words to the marines on the floor. Strangely, she almost didn’t recognize the woman on the screen as herself.

“Every news channel is airing some version of this,” Traynor said, still on the call. “Guess the cat's out of the bag now. I could track down who it was that sold that footage of you, if you want.”

Shepard glowered and ran a hand through her hair. If there were recordings of later, especially of what she’d said, she could be in some very deep hot water.

“That’s not necessary. Thanks for telling me, Traynor.”

“If you need somewhere to escape, I have the afternoon off. I’m sure we could find somewhere in the city to hide you.”

“I bet Kelly’s going to have something to say about all this, so I’ll let you know. Thanks again.” Shepard hung up with a sigh.

The broadcast cut back to Khalisah and her co-hosts sitting on a gleaming glass sound stage, a screen behind them showed Shepard’s latest uniformed portrait taken right after her graduation from the N7 academy. “Now last year, I actually interviewed the Commander on Palaven--”

“I just have to say, sorry to interrupt, Khalisah,” the newscaster on Khalisah’s right butted in. “Shepard is  _ truly _ a remarkable woman, her inner strength has to be admired. This is such a deeply tragic situation that the Alliance has put her in--”

“Now I have to disagree,” the host on Khalisah’s left cut him off. “The Alliance would have no legal recourse to force the Commander into leaving Earth, let alone  _ marrying _ a  _ turian _ , which means that she volunteered for this. She  _ wanted _ to go to Palaven. Now what red-blooded loyal soldier would do that--”

Shepard turned off the television with a flick of her wrist and let her head drop into her hands, landing somewhere between seething rage and utter embarrassment. After a moment, she felt Garrus comfortingly rest a hand on her upper back.

She let out a bitter laugh. “They’re more angry that  _ I’m _ here than you. There’s a turian on Earth and it’s a  _ side note _ .”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t offer any trite comforts that would have just felt insulting. 

She shook her head and stood up. “You can watch more if you want, I’m going to shower.” She couldn’t stomach much more than what she’d already seen. 

In the bathroom, she turned the water up as hot as it would go and just stood under the spray for several minutes. It still didn’t feel warm enough, and she found herself missing the shower back in Palaven. The water there was hot enough to take her skin off if she wasn’t careful, and it was  _ glorious _ . While she didn’t find any answers to the problems at hand, she did feel a little better when she went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Garrus had prepared her a cup of coffee. He offered it to her with a gentle encouraging smile. For a brief moment, everything felt very normal as her fingers brushed his. If she could just ignore everything around them and focus on him, it would be like home. Then the door opened and a very frazzled looking Kelly hurried into their quiet moment.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Kelly said, reaffirming her handle on the obvious. “You… your nose!”

“Good morning, Kelly,” Shepard said stiffly, sitting down at the counter next to Garrus. She blatantly ignored the implicit question in her declaration. “Care for some coffee?”

“How did--last night it was all…” A hand vaguely motioned over the middle of her face. Shepard gave her a blank look and took the first sip, savoring the sharp bite that the asari equivalent never had. Kelly seemed to pick up finally that she wasn’t going to get an answer on that front so she moved on, her nerves quickly returning.

“Ha--have you had a chance to see ANN yet this morning?” she squeaked.

“I did, yes. Only for a few minutes, but long enough to get the gist.”

Kelly’s eyes jumped from Shepard to Garrus and back for a few moments, she seemed to be trying to determine their moods. Shepard doubted she was very successful given the way she relaxed.

“Okay. Well. So. I have some… changes that have been--are to ensure your continuing enjoyment of Earth.”

That was a line straight from the public relations office, if Shepard ever heard one. She looked up from her cup of coffee and raised a single eyebrow. “What kind of changes?”

Kelly physically gulped. “Well…” She folded and unfolded her hands a few times. “To ensure your safety, Commander and Major, you’ll need to be back on base by 2100 every night. It’s also not safe for Major Vakarian to leave the Alliance base anymore. And Commander, when you go out, you’ll need an armed escort.”

Shepard set down her cup of coffee and pinched her brow. So now they had babysitters, curfews, and Garrus was grounded. Why didn’t they just take away their omnitools and say they couldn’t go to the prom next week if they insisted on treating them like children. A very immature part of Shepard wanted to rant and rave, but the rest of her knew this wasn’t Kelly’s fault. Shepard wasn’t going to shoot her very nervous messenger.

Shepard had wanted to show Garrus around Vancouver, take him to her old haunts and the prettiest sights. But it looked like that plan was going up in smoke. She could go herself, but it wouldn’t be as meaningful without him. And besides, anywhere she’d go, she would be a public spectacle now. Everyone lined up to see the woman who married a turian of her own free will. Maybe they needed to get out of the city for a little while.

Shepard had another thought. “What if we didn’t go anywhere public?” she counter-offered. “Specialist Traynor has an apartment here in the city. If we took an Alliance car over and back, we would practically be just as safe there as the base.”

“I’ll ask.” Kelly opened her omnitool and stepped out on the back patio to make her call.

“So much for showing you Earth,” Shepard commented, feeling rather disappointed at the thought.

“There’s always next trip.”

She looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Next trip?”

He shrugged. “My family always did yearly trips to the Citadel. Maybe ours could be Earth.”

She picked up her mug. “Our tradition? Or… our family?”

“Ah--” He made a small choking noise and his mandibles fluttered wildly. She smiled, unable to torture him for a moment longer. The opportunity to tease him about the accidental correlation had been too good to pass up. She squeezed his arm and turned back to her coffee.

A few seconds passed, but then he very firmly said, “Both.”

She quickly looked his way. She had been joking. He was not, she realized seeing his expression.  _ Oh. _ She flushed a little and focused down on the coffee in her hands to give her something to look at. They definitely needed to get out of the city for a bit.

Kelly walked back in at that moment, both interrupting again and saving Shepard at the same time. “I have good news!”

 

That afternoon Garrus found himself thinking of their first trip to Palaven’s art museum. Y _ ou can feel the pulse of the city by just walking down the street _ , Shepard had said when he asked her to describe where she came from. He hadn’t understood at the time. But as he watched Vancouver roll past through heavily tinted windows, he understood now. The city was teaming with life. It reminded him of the Citadel, but more colorful, more vibrant, just  _ more _ . Art and music and shouting and humans everywhere he looked, a fascinating cacophony.

He noticed Shepard watching him and she gave him a secret smile. They were waiting in the car for their Alliance escort to give them the all clear before they could walk the ten meters from the car to Traynor’s front door. If Shepard was frustrated by the turn of events, she didn’t look it. In fact, she was making her planning face again. She was up to something, he was sure of it.

They were given the all clear and quickly escorted to the second floor of presumably an apartment building. Traynor was holding the front door open with a wide smile.

“We’ll be back for pick up at 1800,” Kelly said. “And I’m just a call or message away.” Shepard gave her an absent-minded wave and Traynor shut the door. Several hours of planning just to visit a friend’s apartment. Earth was strange.

Garrus froze as he walked into the tiny living room. There was some sort of small grey haired animal lounging across the low table in the center of the room. It turned to look at him with the mild curiosity of something that knew it was the most dangerous predator in the room. 

“What. Is that?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Shepard came up beside him. “When did you get a cat, Traynor?” She walked up and boldly held out her hand to the ...cat.

“Oh, that’s right! You haven’t met Mr. Biscuits yet. I got him a couple months ago,” Traynor called from the kitchen.

“Mr. Biscuits? Really?” Shepard foolishly took her eyes off of the animal as it was sniffing her fingers. That was a good way to lose a digit.

“The shelter named him that. It felt rude to change his name.”

Mr. Biscuits stopped sniffing Shepard and she affectionately stroked his head a few times. “You’re a softie, aren’t you, Mr. Biscuits?”

Traynor appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “He really is. He likes to sleep right next to me and purr all night long.”

Shepard smiled slyly and looked over at him. Garrus frowned and looked away. He did  _ not _ purr… whatever that meant.

“Let me give you a hand,” Shepard said, standing and walking into the kitchen. She patted his shoulder as she passed by.

“Make yourself at home, Garrus. The remote for the television is right over there.” Traynor smiled brightly and followed Shepard into the kitchen.

Garrus watched Mr. Biscuits for a full minute. It was licking a paw and not paying him any attention. Seemed safe enough. So he slowly made his way across the living room and folded himself on the end of the couch furthest from the creature. He could hear Shepard and Traynor in the kitchen, cooking and chatting about places they’d once visited.

Without warning, Mr. Biscuits got up and leapt onto the couch with an easy grace. Garrus stared at the cat as the cat stared at him, its tail twitching back and forth occasionally. It walked a few steps towards him and Garrus tried to scoot back, but he had no more couch left to maneuver on.

Mr. Biscuit’s pupils grew wider. Spirits, what did that mean? Then suddenly, he leapt onto Garrus’ lap, talons fussing with his mandibles. Garrus rumbled and tried to pull his head away, but Mr. Biscuits just kept swiping. Careful not to hurt Traynor’s pet, he scooped up Mr. Biscuits and deposited him on the floor. He was oddly soft and fragile feeling for all the fuss he’d just made.

Mr. Biscuits looked up at him as if Garrus had done him a great grievance. 

“What?” Garrus asked. Why was he talking to the animal? It wasn’t as though it could talk back. 

But then Mr. Biscuits hopped right back up on the couch and strode into Garrus’ lap with all the confidence in the world. He turned in a circle and then laid down, tucking his paws neatly beneath him. What was he supposed to do now?

“Hey Gare, I think Traynor has older copies of that show--” Shepard stopped mid sentence as she came around the corner and saw his predicament. Half of a laugh came out before she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Help me,” Garrus whispered, trying not to move lest he incur Mr. Biscuits’ wrath again.

Poorly suppressing a smile, Shepard came and sat down next to him. “Like this,” she said. She ran her hand over Mr. Biscuits’ fur. 

“That wasn’t what I--” Not a moment later, Garrus heard the unmistakable sound of subvocals coming from the cat, though it was much louder than normal subvocals would be. Mr. Biscuits sounded deeply content with himself. Shepard gave Garrus a pointed look.

“I do not sound like Mr. Biscuits,” he insisted.

Shepard laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, hun.”

They spent the rest of the day at Traynor’s and that night the team came back over to their apartment for dinner. Everyone brought food from different restaurants around the city, and this time Garrus actually liked several of the dishes he tried. More than once he caught Shepard quietly conferencing with various members of her team throughout the evening.

But he didn’t get a chance to ask Shepard what she was obviously planning until they were heading to bed that night. Human beds left a lot to be desired in his opinion, but it wasn’t so bad if he wedged himself between a pile of soft pillows and a soft Shepard.

“So are you going to clue me into the plan?” he asked, adjusting how his head was lying on her shoulder.

“What plan?” she asked, very much sounding like there was a plan. He rumbled disbelievingly and she chuckled. “Not yet. You’ll know it when it happens.”

She slipped her arm around his head and gently trailed her fingers up and down his neck. No turian alive would be able to cling to methods of questioning under that sort of treatment. His eyes drifted shut and a very relaxed continual hum left him. She chuckled again, and he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Not a word, Shepard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Vakarian.”


	46. Now Your Struggle’s All in Vain

The rest of the week was quiet, well behaved and secretly planning. It was early on Thursday when Shepard’s omnitool pinged. She grinned as she read the message from Vega. They were a go. Step one, remove all Alliance interlopers. 

Shepard jumped down the last few steps into the living room. Garrus glanced up from the cooking show he was watching and she winked at him before heading to the kitchen where Kelly was organizing the drawers.

“Hey Kelly,” Shepard said, putting on her most sincere sounding tone. “I really don’t mean to be a bother--”

Kelly looked up from the silverware drawer she was organizing again, shutting it with her hip. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, what do you need?”

“Well, I have been  _ craving _ some sushi--”

Her face lit up. “I can go pick some up! I know this perfect little sushi bar not too far from here.”

Shepard held up her hand. “Actually, I’d really love some from this place I used to go to all the time when I was in high school. Ajisai? But it’s all the way across town and kind of hard to find…”

Kelly shook her head forcefully and quickly scrambled around for her bag and keys. “Don’t worry, I’ll go right now. What do you want?”

Shepard gave her a winning smile. “A spicy tuna roll and some yellowtail nigiri would be  _ wonderful _ . Thank you so much.”

“No problem whatsoever! I’ll be back in a jiffy!” she called, before running out the front door.

Shepard waited for the sound of her car driving away before opening her omnitool and calling Vega. “We’re clear.”

“We are wheels up, Commander. Be there in fifteen.”

Time for Step two, extract the packages. She turned around to see Garrus eyeing her, half with amusement and half with suspicion. “Is this your secret plan?” he asked.

She smiled widely at him. “You’re not the only one who can plan surprise trips. Operation: I Want To Break Free is now in full swing. Pack a bag, enough for two days and two nights. I’ll take care of the food.”

He smiled eagerly and then took the stairs three at a time. Her thoughts exactly. A furious fifteen minutes later, there was a particularly rhythmic knock on the front door.

“Thanks so much for this, guys--” Shepard started as she opened the door.

Joker held up a hand as Vega behind him crossed his arms. “What’s the passcode?” Joker asked in an overly serious voice.

“I’m not doing tha--”

“How will we know you’re the real Shepard if you don’t give us the passcode? You could be a clone.”

“Or have been body snatched,” Vega added.

“Excellent point, Lieutenant. Or body snatched. So passcode, Commander.”

Shepard blew out a breath. “Joker is the best pilot in the entire fifth fleet and Vega can dance better than Shepard,” she repeated in a monotone.

They both laughed. “Why thank you, Commander. Man, we should have been recording that.” 

They tossed the bags in the backseat of Vega’s jeep while Shepard left a note to Kelly explaining that they’d be out of town and out of contact but not to worry. And after thinking about it for a moment, she left a second note to Hackett, telling him to not let Kelly take any blame for this. Really it would reflect poorly on the N7 program if she couldn’t sneak past an Ensign.

“Okay,” Shepard declared as she shut the front door behind her. “Everything’s done inside. Got everything out here?” 

“Aye-aye, Commander,” Vega said as he got in the driver’s seat. Joker hopped in the front seat and Shepard turned to Garrus with an apologetic look.

“This is where it’s a little tricky,” she said slowly.

“You need me to get in the trunk,” he replied, at least sounding good natured about it. She nodded and he rolled his eyes a little. 

“The things I do for you,” Garrus said as he got in. The trunk wasn’t really built to house seven foot tall turians and Garrus wound up having to curl up on his side to fit.

“Comfy?” she asked, sympathetically.

“As much as I can be,” he replied, sounding a little strained.

She draped a blanket over him, careful not to catch it on his spurs or his fringe. “This is just to get past the guards. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Nihlus or Sol that this happened.”

“Oh, you’re too kind.”

She jumped in the backseat and noticed that Joker was carefully regarding her. “What?” she asked.

He shook his head and turned back around. “Vega, chart a course for the Plaza of Nations Marina parking garage!”

“Aye-aye, Joker.”

It was a quick drive through base, but Shepard felt her nerves rise as they approached the gates. If this operation was going to fall apart, it would be right here. They pulled up at the guard house and one of the petty officers stepped out. Vega handed over his ID. The guard looked at it and then looked at him as Shepard held her breath. Then the guard handed it back without issue.

“Have a nice day, Lieutenant,” she said, sounding very bored.

“Thank you, ma’am.” And Vega pealed out of the base. An uncontrollable grin spread across her face. This was actually going to happen.

Shepard leaned over the seat to pull the blanket off Garrus’ head. “You can sit up now, if you want.”

He unfolded carefully and somehow looked even more scrunched than he had previously. “Do all human trips require coordinated stealth teams and contortion?”

“They do if you’re doing them right,” Joker replied from the front seat.

Shepard laughed a little. “Don’t worry. Where we’re going, there will be plenty of room to stretch our legs.”

“Where  _ are _ we going by the way? You still haven’t said.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She smiled conspiratorially and turned back around. Joker was giving her another strange look, but he turned back around without question.

They pulled into the parking garage and drove up to an empty level. “This is our stop,” Vega said, stopping next to Joker’s beat up sedan that had been left there earlier.

Vega and Joker got out. Garrus got in the front seat of the jeep and Shepard held out her hand for the keys from Vega.

“Now you take very good care of Cheyenne, Shepard,” Vega ordered, deadly serious. He’d always been overly protective of his frankly very crappy car. “She’s a delicate lady. No accidents, no speeding, minimal off-roading.”

“Please, James, do you think this is my first time driving Cheyenne?” Shepard snagged the keys and hopped into the driver’s seat. She turned the car on and just to get Vega’s blood pressure spiking, she revved the engine. She caught a glimpse of Vega giving her a death glare as Joker next to him cackled before hitting the gas and leaving them both behind.

“So is Operation: I Want To Break Free a success?” Garrus asked as she pulled out onto the main road. She queued up the namesake on the radio and grinned at him. 

“Affirmative, Major.”

Vancouver proper quickly fell away into the suburbs and it wasn’t long before the city was left entirely behind. Shepard let loose a contented sigh,  _ finally _ they were on vacation. They stopped several times as the drive took them up the coast for a few hours, before cutting in between the mountains. Garrus in particular seemed awed by the views available out every angle of the car.

“Is that  _ snow _ ?” he asked, pointing to the white peaks of Whistler mountain.

She nodded. “Yep, at the higher altitudes there’s a permafrost that never melts.”

“I’ve never seen snow in person before.”

“Next time we should come in the winter, then you can really see some snow.”

The road wound its way between many breathtaking mountains and lakes. All of them would have been just wonderful, but there was a particular one that Shepard had in mind. She pulled off the highway, following the directions she’d saved to her omnitool because there was definitely no satellite signal this far out. The small gravel road curled along Mount Seton. There were so many trees that it was easy to pretend no civilization at all existed outside of their car, which is exactly what she wanted. 

Luckily, the directions from the website proved easy to follow and Shepard stopped in front of a picturesque wooden cabin. It was surrounded by a wide yard of green grass and then the dense forest of pine trees. Turning off the engine left just the quiet sounds of nature to fill the air. She breathed in deep the clean crisp scents. It smelled exactly like she’d always imagined.

“What is this place?” Garrus asked, nodding towards the cabin as they both got out of the car.

“This is our home for the next two days,” she said, feeling relieved and giddy that her plan had actually worked. Traynor had been the one to originally suggest renting a vacation cabin as a way to escape, but really she owed her entire team a drink for their help in executing the plan. “No press, no curfew, and no Alliance. Just us and the trees for a mile around.”

He looked surprised and turned to survey their idyllic surroundings again. She watched the stress of the city fall away from his shoulders. Then he reached over and took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “Perfect.”

 

If Garrus could somehow arrange for a steady supply of dextro food to be delivered to this remote little cabin Shepard had brought them to, he would be very happy to stay here for the rest of his life. The drive up from Vancouver was majestic, and now this house at the end of the journey was cozy and warm. There a fireplace in the living room, which Shepard was very excited about. And there was a very large deck off the back that he was excited about.

They had taken their leisurely time on the drive up, so it was already sunset when they arrived. And by the time they had settled somewhat into the house, it was truly dark. Garrus found another very comfy couch in the living room and was settling in for the night when Shepard wrapped her arms around his cowl from behind.

“Hey, I want to show you something,” Shepard said. There was a definite smile in her voice, had been since this morning. She seemed to be very pleased with her plan. He knew the feeling.

She took his hand, pulling him out the back door. 

He shivered a little with the gust of cool air hitting his face. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise,” she answered cryptically. 

They walked hand in hand across the backyard, no judgemental eyes here. It’d been cool all day and it was starting to get even colder now that the sun had set. Palaven was rarely ever this temperature. There was a crisp scent that permeated the air and seemed to almost clear his lungs. 

Garrus kept glancing over at her as Shepard led him down a set of stone and wooden steps in the forested mountain side. A smile ghosted on her face, but otherwise she gave no indication of what she had in store. That was fine with him; he was exceedingly content to hold her hand and follow along with her next surprise. The stairs appeared to turn into a wooden walkway further up ahead, but Shepard stopped before they reached it.

“Close your eyes,” she said, taking both of his hands in hers. He didn’t for a moment and she squeezed them. “Just trust me.”

“Alright.” And he did as she asked.

She guided him down the remaining steps and then along the wooden pathway for a few minutes. 

“Careful now,” she said. The path was still wooden and seemed to bob a little under their feet. He heard the barest sound of lapping water and a murky smell hit his nose.

“Are we on water?”

“It’s a dock,” she said, still leading him along though he slowed immediately.

“You know turians can’t swim, right?” He suddenly felt a little apprehensive.

“I know. Barring any mishaps neither of us will be getting in the water. It’d be freezing anyway.”

He relaxed a little, but still moved slower than before.

“Alright, stop here.” She put her hands on his torso. “Turn this way a little… there. You ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” he replied.

“Open your eyes.”

For a moment, he just saw Shepard, smiling expectantly at him. But then he was quickly overwhelmed by the vista she had brought him to. His mouth dropped open. The night sky was alight with impossibly brilliant dancing waves of green and blue. The waving lights above were reflected in the placid lake they were standing on. Bright stars twinkled in unfamiliar constellations over the mountains surrounding them. Was this real? How could such a place actually exist? 

Finally, his gaze returned to Shepard who was watching him carefully, a smile hinting in her eyes.

“They’re called the Northern Lights, or  _ Aurora Borealis _ ,” she said, tilting her head to look up at the wonder above them. “You never know when they’ll show up, but we got lucky.”

“It’s…” He shook his head. There weren’t words to describe what he was seeing, what he was feeling. It was perhaps the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” she agreed, leaning her elbows on the railing around the edge of the dock. For a minute, he watched her look up at the view. The wind gently blew back her hair and her eyes reflected the stars as brightly as the lake. No, he corrected himself. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Maybe it was the lights or the stars or maybe just the way she was looking so wondrously at the heavens, but Garrus felt emboldened. The nerves that usually held him back were nowhere to be seen. He leaned over her, wrapping his arms over hers and nuzzling into her neck. She hummed in response and brushed the side of her head over his.

“Earth is almost as beautiful as you,” he whispered. She chuckled and he could see her cheeks tinge a little pink.

“You’re a real smooth talker, Vakarian,” she replied, still smiling.

“We both know that’s not true.” He smiled as well and rested his chin on her shoulder, admiring this view with her. She brushed her fingers across his cheek and he was blissfully happy. Happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time… happy in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever been before.

“You know I’ve never actually been here before?” she said quietly.

“Really?”

She shook her head slightly. “I saw a postcard for Seton Lake at one of my foster homes when I was… oh, eight--nine. And I decided that when I was grown up, I’d go see it. If I could make it to Seton, I’d be doing alright. Had to cross the galaxy twice… but I made it.” 

“Is it what you hoped it would be?” he murmured to her.

She smiled a little and turned her head towards him. “It’s better.”

He tilted his head to brush his forehead against hers, subvocals resonating with a deep joy. This moment with Shepard was perfect. This place was magical. She was breathtaking. She… belonged here.

Something that had been building in his gut since they’d touched down on Earth finally took shape. The Hierarchy and the Alliance and the consequences be damned. He knew what was right as much as it crushed him. 

She belonged here. 

And he did not.

“Shepard…” he said quietly, letting go of her and moving to stand next to her. He took a deep breath. He had to say this, it was only right. “If you don’t want to go back to Palaven, you don’t have to.”

She frowned a little. “But you only have two week’s worth of dextro rations left.”

“No, I mean…” He looked out over the vista. “You would stay here on Earth.” He dragged his eyes back to her. “And I would go back to Palaven.”

She stood up. “What?” she breathed.

“I don’t care what the Hierarchy or the Alliance says…” He shook his head. “I’m not going to make you leave Earth again. You belong here. This is your home.”

She looked up at him for a long moment and then out at the vista. He took advantage of her pause to memorize her face and everything else he could about this moment. Who knew how many he had left with her?

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet but solid as a stone. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned this week and really over the past year, it’s that… this isn’t my home. Maybe it never was… but it’s definitely not anymore.” She turned to look at him, starlight in her eyes. “Garrus… I am so grateful that you gave me Earth back, but I want to go home… with you.” He froze as his heart felt like it might leap up out of his mouth. A faint line of worry appeared between her brows. “If you want me--”

He was already closing the distance between them. He pressed his forehead to hers, cradling her neck between his hands. “I do.” He closed his eyes as a breathless laugh escaped him. “I want that more than anything.”

Warm affection filled her eyes as she smiled back. They’d had so little choice in the entire time that they knew each other. Everything had been handed down to them. But now, here, she chose him. And he promised himself he would choose her every chance he had.

She tilted her head to brush her lips against his mouth. She was supple and smooth against his plates. The gesture was still foreign to him, but growing in familiarity. And when her eyes met his again, the long smoldering embers between them finally burst into flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next week will be a jump in the rating obviously. For those of you who do not wish to read such scenes, fear not. I will post a summary on chapter 48 of any plot important elements you may have missed. And for those of you who do wish to read such scenes, hold onto your hats. :P <3, K


	47. *What the Hell are We Fighting for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is very much nsfw. If you don't want to partake, I'll be posting a sfw summary at the beginning of chapter 48. <3, K

Shepard grabbed at Garrus, months of denial coming to a head and making her motions fast and desperate. She kissed him and he reciprocated as best he could, pulling her close. In no time at all, her heart began to drum loudly in her chest. She gasped into his mouth as he pulled her flush against him. Cautiously, her tongue brushed against his. A moment later, he reciprocated and warmth bloomed down her spine. She felt surrounded, enveloped by him. He smelled like pine trees and Palaven. His hand threaded into her hair as she pressed up against him, wanting to be closer still. 

She exhaled sharply as he broke the kiss to nibble his way down to her neck. Her head rolled to the side to allow him further access as his raspy tongue trailed up and down the length. She stood up on tip-toe to press soft, lingering kisses along his neck. He leaned down to let her reach more. A low rumble rippled through him as her fingers brushed up along the back of his neck.

“Shepard,” he whispered, his voice low and thick.

“Jane,” she answered. She leaned back to see his eyes, admiring how blue they were under the dancing lights in the sky. She traced her fingertips over his mandible, admiring the texture for a moment. “When we’re like this at least… Jane.”

He tilted his forehead down to rest on hers. “Jane.”

A wide smile spread across her face as a wave of giddiness swept over her. 

“Jane,” he said again, cupping her jaw and nuzzling her cheek. “Jane.” He caressed the other one. “Jane,” he whispered, before kissing her again and stroking his tongue against her own with bone-melting aplomb.

She hummed low in her throat, desire starting to simmer. There was a perfectly good bedroom not too far away that would be far superior to this dock. She smiled at his slightly dazed expression when she pulled away, then took his hand and lead him back up the path to the cabin. 

He stopped as they reached the deck, pulling her back to him for another long kiss. For a person without lips, he was doing a remarkable job of it, she decided. Her thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly picked her up. She gasped as he paired the motion with another pass along her neck with his tongue. Very smooth, Vakarian. Smiling, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensations as he carried her towards the door. Mm, he was very good at this-- _ Thud _ .

“Dammit,” she hissed as the back of her head hit the doorframe.

“Crap! Shepard, are you okay?” He put her back down and tried to examine her head. She frowned and ran a hand over the spot that was definitely going to bruise. 

“I’m so sorry, I misjudged--”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She looked up at his worried expression and laughed a little. “I’ll be okay, I’m harder to kill than that.”

He looked a little relieved, though there was still a cloud of worry hovering in his gaze. “Minor concussions are a bit of a mood killer,” he said, sounding disappointed. Oh, he was sweet… and an idiot if he actually thought that was enough to stop her.

“I think we can find our way back there just fine,” she replied, taking his hand again and opening the door. She led him down the short hall to the bedroom in the back, giving him small secret smiles with every step.

When they reached their room, Garrus pulled Shepard back towards him. His other hand slid around her waist as if they were dancing. She could feel his subvocals through her hands, constant and low. He swayed to some imaginary music, looking down at her with a gaze that made her heart stop. 

She gazed up at him, a little awed that this was the person she’d fallen so hard for. “Garrus Vakarian: soldier, bondmate, secret romantic,” she said, softly. 

He chuckled and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against her forehead and then her lips. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she said, her lips still brushing his. She slipped her hands up around his neck and pressed soft kisses along his mandible, like he had along her jaw. Hoping that her instinct was correct, she caught the end of it between her teeth and gently nibbled. His steady purring staccatoed for a second before returning stronger than before. 

She chuckled; that worked better than she’d hoped. Maybe this was going to be more familiar than she thought. Following instinct again, she tried to pull up his shirt, but the piece of clothing didn’t budge. Well. She frowned and pulled a little harder at the obstinate fabric with no success.

“Want some help?” he asked, sounding amused. 

She nodded and watched closely as he undid a few hidden snaps under the left arm. Ah, now she’d know for next time. He was kind enough to let her be the one to push the shirt off his shoulders, baring his torso. Despite living together for over a year she hadn’t really seen him without clothing before now. She stepped back to examine him for a few moments. 

His silver plates almost seemed a solid surface over his upper chest and shoulders, though she could see small seams between them to allow for movement. The gaps between the plates grew wider further down his torso till his narrow waist was completely bare. His arms, his frame seemed too thin for the strength she knew it held. 

“God…” she breathed, unabashedly staring at him. “You’re like a sculpture.” She stepped closer to him again. “Can I touch you?”

“ _ Please _ ,” he said, making her smile with his restless tone. Cautiously, she reached out and ran her fingers over one of the plates. It reminded her of shark skin, smooth yet rough at the same time, warm and interesting to touch. She trailed towards a gap between two plates on his middle carapace. Her finger fit perfectly between and he stiffened when she ran it through the groove.

“Bad?” she asked, pulling her hand back.

“No.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest again. “Good, I promise. A little surprising is all.”

She gave him a small smile and returned to tracing her fingers over his exposed skin. She kept her strokes featherlite, enjoying the way he was almost leaning in to her touch. He wanted more, she could tell from his expression and the way his subvocals kept fluctuating through various octaves. God, she wished she could understand them. His eyes fluttered closed as she trickled touches down across his waist. Huh. That area really was sensitive for him. 

“Spirits,” he whispered, fully relaxing into her touch.

She grinned and quickly ducked down, running the flat of her tongue over his waist. He yelped and grabbed her shoulders for balance, almost falling over. She laughed as he stood back up and gaped at her.

“Humans like to use their mouths, I see,” he commented dryly, as if he wasn’t obviously panting.

She chuckled. “You have no idea.”

 

There was something about the sultry promise in her words that made Garrus shiver. This was all so new and very different than what he was used to, but it was good. Surprisingly good. Still… Shepard was wearing too many clothes, and she looked far too pleased with herself after her little stunt. Though his toes curled a little at the thought of her repeating it. Maybe later.

“Your turn,” he rumbled directly into her ear, pitching his voice lower. She inhaled sharply and stiffened. Much better.

He sat down on the bed and pulled her towards him till she was standing between his knees. Since they were about eye level now, he couldn’t resist the temptation to lean in and kiss her in both his and her style again. She almost seemed to melt against him. He slid his hands over her slender waist and nuzzled along her neck for a moment, savoring the way her soft palms felt sliding down his bare arms. When she was breathless again, he tugged on the hem of her shirt.

“May I?” he asked. She nodded. Her shirt was simple to pull up and off, thank the Spirits. She flicked her hair behind her shoulders again as she calmly let him admire her as she had him. 

It was a little overwhelming, if he was honest. There were no plates to map his way, no carapace, just seeming miles of pale freckled skin. She wasn’t plated anywhere, so maybe it all felt good to her… or maybe some secret places were better than others. However, she wasn’t even completely bare yet. There was a strange sort of harness about her upper chest.

“What is this?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t a stupid question, as he ran a talon under a strap.

“A bra.” 

He frowned, he thought bras were the sort of stretchy half-tops that Shepard hung to dry in the shower. Not this elaborate construction of navy-colored lace with a small bow in the middle. “This doesn’t look like a bra…”

She smiled a little, and a pink tinge appeared across her upper cheeks. “I… may have bought this one special a few days ago.” She stepped back and unzipped her pants, letting them fall off her hips. She kicked them away and was left in underwear that matched her bra in style and color.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Lingerie was very different here on Earth than on Palaven. But he had to give it to the humans, they certainly knew what they were doing on that front. She looked… absolutely tantalizing, and his evolution hadn’t even primed him to find curves attractive. He reached out a hand to touch her, but hesitated just before he did.

“Please,” she whispered before he could even ask. Aiming for the familiar, he slid his palm over her waist and hummed appreciatively. Her skin was so  _ smooth _ . Was she like this everywhere? He had to know, so he slipped his other hand across her stomach and up her back. Her skin was cool to his touch. She arched her back slightly as he made his way up, over her shoulders and down her arms. 

“You’re soft all over,” he murmured, meeting her gaze. She bit her bottom lip and then reached behind her. The shoulder straps on her bra loosened and slipped off. She gave him an encouraging nod as he hooked a finger under the band in the middle. So he pulled the whole piece away.

Now these he’d heard of. Humanity seemed nigh on obsessed with breasts. He knew that they were important to sex… somehow. But looking at Shepard’s, he was suddenly afraid that if there was a way to screw this up, he would find it.

“How… Ah--”

“Here.” She must have picked up on his apprehension before he even said anything. Bless her. She took his hand in hers and guided it towards her, gently cupping his hand around her breast. Spirits, this skin was even softer than she’d been everywhere else. Her eyes drifted shut and her breathing grew shallow with just simple contact. 

“They’re sensitive so… be gentle,” she instructed, a little breathlessly. She smiled wryly. “But not too gentle.”

She brushed his knuckles against the darker centers and the skin immediately puckered. He looked back to her and she smiled.

“That’s a good sign,” she said, dropping her hands away to let him take the lead. 

Alright, Vakarian, don’t screw this up. Gauging her reaction with every movement, he circled a thumb over the raised nub in the very center. Her eyes shut again and her shoulders relaxed. Also a good sign, he presumed. Following what she did to him earlier, he kept his touches featherlite. Spiraling and ghosting, as she relaxed more and more. And then when her eyes were completely shut and her shoulders dropped, he ducked in and ran the length of his tongue across the nub. She gasped and wrapped her arms around his head, pressing close to him, as he let out a pleased rumble.

“Do that again?” she whispered, running her fingertips along the back of his neck.

“If you keep touching me like that, I’ll do anything you want,” he muttered before returning to the nub. She hummed as he did and pressed closer still to him.  

She’d always smelled pleasant to him, but this close, and having been to Earth, he could pick out and identify the individual notes now. Blueberries, and pine trees, and honey, and salt. But now a new smell entered her mix--warm and earthy, complex and instantly recognizable. His subharmonic rumble went deeper and he could feel a pressure behind his plates begin to build.

 

It was different being with Garrus than it was being with any other person Shepard had been with before. And it wasn’t just that he was a turian, though that was there. Three fingers running through her hair certainly felt different than five. But this felt… More. There wasn’t really anyway to describe it better. She wasn’t really sure what it was that made this feel More, just that it was.

Shepard skirted her fingers higher, seeking a spot she wasn’t sure actually existed but it was always referenced in turian vids. The ridges up the back of his neck felt like smoother versions of his chest plates, but right below his fringe they stopped. She ran her thumb over the unprotected skin. Reactively, his grip on her hips immediately tightened and an echoing rumble shuddered through him. Bullseye. She circled the tips of her fingers over it and he stopped his admirable work on her breasts. Good, easier for her to focus. As she gently massaged the area, he dropped his head, resting his forehead against her chest.

“I see I’ve found the secret turian off-switch,” she commented with a smile, running her other hand soothingly up and down the back of his neck. He only panted in reply, making her toes curl. “Or perhaps it’s the on switch, difficult to say.”

Making use of the fact that she had dull harmless nails, she carefully ran them over the skin and that was apparently the last straw for Garrus. He let out a heated growl and before Shepard really knew what was happening, she was on her back on the bed and he was on his hands and knees over her.  _ Oh _ . She felt a blush quickly sweep over her cheeks and bloom down her torso.

However, he abruptly changed speeds and gently brushed his thumb over her blush. “Is this a good sign too?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. She nodded and he looked pleased. He nuzzled along her neck again. “So… where’s your on switch?” he asked in a seductive tone.

She tried to hold it back, she really did, but a laugh bubbled up out of her, followed by several others. She pulled his forehead to hers before he could escape as she tried to squeeze out apologies in between fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed, wiping away a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, just at the question.”

“It was  _ your _ phrase,” he pushed back. He was definitely acting more annoyed than he actually was. She could see the smile hiding in his eyes.

“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to seduce you with it.” 

“Guess I need to work on my bedroom banter,” he groused, dropping his head to run a tongue along her collarbone. Her now gentle laugh trailed off into a low hum as he repeated the process while circling a thumb over her nipple.

“You want to give it another try?” she asked, working to keep control of her breathing. He shifted to kiss her, caressing his tongue over hers as he squeezed her breasts. When he pulled away she was well and truly panting.

“Show me how to touch you,” he said in a gravelly tone that made her stomach muscles clench. She nodded, a little stunned at how effective the question had been for her. Heat had already been pooling between her thighs, and now suddenly the floodgates had opened.

“How should I--how do you want me to do that?” she whispered, a jagged edge to her voice all of a sudden.

He considered for a moment and then sat back. He laid down next to her, sparks could be jumping over the small gap he’d left between them. He nuzzled his forehead against hers for a moment. “Show me. Please?”

Somehow it was the please that really got her. A shudder ran down her spine and she ran her hands over her stomach, reaching down for her final article of clothing. As she slipped her fingers under the lace, he put a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, may I?” he asked. And she nodded again, almost shyly. He knelt between her knees and slipped the panties down her thighs. She scoured his face for any sort of negative reaction, but all she got was patient deliberateness. They ran into a roadblock when he reached her calves, but she quickly lifted her knees. He flung the small scrap of fabric to the far side of the room and she was left absolutely bare for him. Sheesh, when was the last time a man had looked at her like he was right now, she wondered. 

He rested his hands on her thighs, thumb stroking slowly back and forth as he just looked at her for a moment. A curl of nerves tied itself up in her gut as she studied his face.

“You… have hair here too,” he said simply, eyes jumping to meet hers.

“Some women remove theirs, but I…” Shepard shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, just always seemed like a lot of trouble to me. Plus, on--on active duty you only get four minute showers, so no time to really--really shave anything then. Guess I fell out of--out of habit.” She was babbling. The man she was crazy about was running his hands up her bare thighs, looking like he wanted to devour her, and she was babbling like an idiot.

Garrus stopped his slow ascent and tilted his head. “You’re nervous,” he said like he’d suddenly just put it together. “We can stop if you--”

“No!” She dropped her hands over his as she sat up. “Don’t stop. I want this, I do. I…  _ really _ do. But it’s just…” She sighed. “It’s been a while for me and I know I’m not what you’re used to and I want this to be good and I just--I got in my head.”

He leaned forward to brush his forehead against hers. “If it makes you feel better, it’s been a while for me too. Also, I already knew you weren’t a turian before I got your clothes off, Shepard,” he teased in a gentle tone.

She had to smile a little. “Maybe you have a point.”

He trailed the backs of his fingers down her arm. “Are you sure you want to keep going?” he asked softly.

“I’m sure,” she replied before tilting her head to kiss him.

 

Shepard wasn’t the only one who was a little nervous. He’d been putting on a very brave face and leaning heavily into how much he wanted this. But if anything, knowing that she had some of the exact same fears he had, made Garrus feel a little better. He wanted this to be good for her, with her. It was heartening to know that she did too.

She was definitely serious about not wanting to stop. This wasn’t even his style of kissing and she was getting his blood racing again. She shifted how she was sitting, moving closer to him and raising her knees between them but keeping her legs pressed together.

“Do you still want me to show you?” she whispered, her lips brushing his. He nodded as she slid his hands up to rest on her knees. And then she let them fall open. A wave of that aroma he smelled earlier hit him full force and he couldn’t hold back the lustful growl in his subvocals. Oh  _ Spirits. _

She let him boldly stare at her in awe for a few seconds before her hands drifted towards her juncture.

“So am I at all what you…” she said, breathily as her fingers traced her outer lips.

He swallowed as he watched, utterly entranced. “Similar, but different.” His hands inched up her thighs as he watched. Why had he told her to show him? This was  _ torture _ .

“So there’s a few things to know…” She ran lazy fingers over the area, before delving one inside her. They both groaned lightly at the action. “I’m guessing that’s what’s similar so I doubt you need instruction there, but if you want to get me off…” Her finger emerged from her depths, strangely shiny. She moved with purpose a little further up and lightly brushed a small raised bundle of flesh above her entrance. Her thighs tensed beneath his hands and she sucked in a breath as her eyes slammed shut. Whoa. 

“What is that?” he asked in a hushed tone of awe.

“The clitoris. Eight thousand nerve endings in one tiny area. But it gets… desensitized if you focus on it too much, so move around.” She gave a single breathy laugh. “Keep me guessing.”

Garrus scooted towards her. That was going to have to be enough guidance to start. He was desperate to get his hands on her. He slipped one hand behind her back and the other one down her arm to her hand. She met his eyes and moved her hand away. 

She hummed as he cautiously stroked over the outermost parts. He was so painfully aware of his talons and her delicate skin that he moved very slowly, but that really seemed to be working for Shepard so he didn’t bother speeding up at all. Cautiously, he slipped between her folds and they both groaned again. No wonder her finger was shiny, she was positively soaking. He wasn’t even inside her yet and she was so warm, so slick. How good was it going to be when it wasn’t his finger? The thought alone was enough to make him slip out of his sheath, hard enough to hurt.

“Spirits,” he hissed. Even with his thoroughly ignorant ministrations, she was obviously responding. Soft hums and deep breaths followed his every move. But where was that little--

“There!” Her hand came around to grip his shoulder tightly. He shifted so she was sitting across his lap before he stroked her again. She curled up against him, her breathing coming hard and fast as her hips rocked in tandem with his motions. 

She was magnificent, he thought as he kissed her forehead and continued to caress her. Her sighs and low moans were driving him up the wall. Want was rapidly filling his chest, with need not too far behind. He wanted to pull her closer still. He wanted to run his hands, his tongue over her entire body. He _wanted_ to return to the source of her miraculous scent and bury himself inside.

 

Garrus was putting the last two men Shepard had slept with to shame. Major Walters hadn’t even gotten her this close before he’d already called it a night and was putting his boots back on. And Second Lieutenant Kates had just been embarrassing. But this, Lord in heaven, this was shaping up to be truly spectacular. Garrus was solid and warm and laser focused on his task. She gripped his shoulder tighter, for once not afraid that her partner would start to complain of bruising, and pressed her face against his neck. She was getting close, so close, just a little more.

And that’s when he pulled away. 

“No,” she cried, gasping. “Don’t stop, Garrus.  _ Please _ .” But the bastard just chuckled quietly. She lifted her head to glare at him, still panting. He just brushed his forehead against hers all too sweetly.

“Call me selfish, but the first time I make you orgasm I want to be inside you,” he said in a growl that very nearly finished the job for him. She groaned and dropped her head to his cowl. His fingers combed through her hair for a moment and he hummed soothingly. 

“Fine,” she grumbled, still not lifting her head. She snapped the fabric on his pant leg. “You’re going to have to take these off yourself then because I have no clue.”

He chuckled. “I can do that. But you’re going to have to get off my lap first.”

She responded instead by pressing a slow kiss to his neck, following it with another and then another. His hands roved over her waist as his rumble echoed through him. She quickly straddled his lap and pressed against him, finding a familiar bulge pressing up against her. Ah-hah, so she wasn’t the only one desperate for the evening to reach its inevitable crescendo. She rocked against it and he shuddered.

“Shepard,” he groaned into her mouth. She didn’t reply just moved quicker, feeling her own heat start to rekindle now. He growled and flipped them again, pinning her wrists to the bed suddenly now under her. Oh, that was even better than last time. He gave her a bone-melting kiss, hips rolling over hers once, before pulling away and standing up. 

“You are going to be the death of me,” he said, panting.

“I’m certainly trying,” she replied with a grin and a wink. “So how do you get those off of you? Figure I should know for next time.”

His mandibles fluttered a little, as if he was pleasantly surprised that there was going to be a next time. If she had anything to say about it, they would have many, many times.

“Like this,” he instructed, bending over and pulling on a few straps both above and below his spurs. It still was a much more complicated process than hers was to remove… he might be doing this step himself for a while yet. At least until she figured out how to undo buckles with her teeth. But finally he was as naked as she was and he carefully turned towards her.

Her eyes went wide as she sat up and stared at him, all of him, for a few silent seconds.

He shifted from foot to foot. “I imagine I’m… a little different,” he said, sounding uncomfortable. When she dragged her eyes away, she saw that he was looking very self-conscious.

“No! No, no.” She quickly scooted to the edge and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly. “You misunderstand--Garrus… you look like  _ porn _ . How are you real?”

He breathed a laugh and visibly relaxed. “I can’t say I know the answer to that question.”

“May I?” she asked, slipping a hand up his thigh. He nodded and brought her hand over to wrap around his base. She slid her hand up the length and he had to brace himself on her shoulder. He looked like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

Admiring him again for a moment more, a new idea popped into her head. She looked up at him and then leaned forward, pressing a long wet kiss to his waist and trailing her fingers over his length. “Do you remember what I said about humans liking to use their mouths?” she asked in a low tone.

He visibly twitched. Oh yes, he remembered. She looked up at him and he was gaping down at her in stunned silence. “You’d… your…”

“There might be a few evolutionary advantages to dull teeth.”

“Spirits,” he replied before bending swiftly and kissing her, cupping her head in his hands. “That sounds… like it may actually kill me.”

“You did say you weren’t levo sensitive,” she pointed out in a playful tone.

His eyes grew wider still as he picked up both of her meanings. “You mean, you’d let me…” She caught a glimpse of his teeth and for a moment faltered. But then she remembered how careful he’d been with his talons and how mind-numbingly good his kissing skills were. 

She nodded. “But that would ruin your whole being inside me when you make me come plan.”

“Unfortunately, so you would your… offer.” 

She kissed him languidly, till he was breathless. “Another time then.” He groaned at the idea. “But for right now I can tell you, you’re going to feel amazing inside me,” she whispered into his ear, trailing one finger up the underside of his length. He moaned in response and pushed her back on the bed to crawl over her and press kisses all over her torso and neck.

“So how… ah…” He stopped and lifted his head. “There’s not really a sexy way to ask this--how should we do this? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He ran a thumb over the smooth skin of her breast.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she murmured. “I have a few ideas.”

He smiled down at her and pressed his forehead to hers. “What did you have in mind?”

“Here.” She sat up and arranged a few pillows at the head of the bed. He sat down in the seat she’d prepared. “Comfortable?”

Garrus nodded and Shepard straddled his lap again, trapping his erection between them. He hummed and skimmed his hands over her waist, her back. 

Shepard just looked at him for a moment, before they crossed this threshold together. It was truly amazing how far they’d come. And there was no one she’d rather have made the journey with but him.

Gradually, she lifted her hips. They both moaned as his tip brushed against her sodden heated center.

“Jane, look at me,” Garrus whispered. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes till she was opening them again. 

They locked eyes and slowly, she sunk down onto him. They both watched the expressions ripple across the other’s face; pleasure and novelty and pain and familiarity. She lowered, steadily maintaining course, till his hips were pressed against her again.

“Jane,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead to hers. “Oh,  _ Jane _ .”

Her thoughts exactly. As badly as she wanted to immediately pick up the tempo, she needed a few seconds to adjust to him. She’d never felt so full before. She peered into his face curiously. “How does it…?”

“Spirits… better than…” He looked at her tenderly. “Better than I ever imagined.”

He dipped his head then, kissing her reverently. He cupped her breast again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. She hummed and reached behind him for the delicate skin under his fringe. He then slid his hand down and stroked her clit once. She spasmed around him and he dropped his head to her shoulder, swearing in a low tone. He caressed her again and her hips jerked against him.

“Shit, you’re so good at that,” she said breathlessly.

“Always was a quick study,” he replied, gritting his teeth as she fluttered around him. She braced her arms on his shoulders and rocked against him. She rocked further forward each time, lifting herself slightly off of him before rolling back down. God, he felt so good inside of her. Different, but in the best way possible.

He kept stroking her as she moved, tilting his hips to meet each of her thrusts, and she could already feel the tension beginning to build across her middle, down her spine. This was so good.  _ Garrus _ was so good, so much better than anything she’d ever had before. And as she met his eyes again, it dawned on her why.

She was in love with him. Simple as that. That’s what made this more. Made this the best. This wasn’t just a one night stand, a quick release. He wasn’t a casual boyfriend, or some stranger from a bar. He was her best friend, her husband. And suddenly, she realized what she really wanted in that moment.

“Garrus,” she moaned as he moved inside her. She swallowed and tried to find a more sure footing, mentally speaking. “Garrus--”

“Yes, Jane?” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. She could feel his subvocals echoing through him, through her.

“Mark me.”

 

Garrus stopped moving, still inside her, and his eyes snapped open to look at her. “W-what?” Had he heard her right?

Shepard touched his cheek, stroking his colony markings with her thumb. Her pupils were blown so wide it almost seemed like her eyes were just inky black. “Mark me. Please?”

“You… you…” Garrus felt his heart rate suddenly start racing, emotions poured in through unexpectedly broken bulkheads. “Shepard, you don’t have--”

“I want to. I want this. Garrus… I want to be your mate. Truly and fully.”

She watched him carefully as he tried to pull himself together enough to make some sort of coherent response. Something that wasn’t just trilling joy and subharmonic declarations of devotion.

Her hopeful expression dimmed slightly. “If you… don’t want to, I under--” That finally cut through his shock.

“No! I Do. I just…” He took a deep breath. “It’s… it’s not done lightly.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” 

No wonder her team proudly followed her into hell, he thought as he looked into the calm assurance of Shepard’s gaze. He’d suspected for a while and now knew for certain that he’d gladly do the same if ever given the chance.

He touched his forehead to hers. “Okay.” 

“How do I mark you?” she asked. Her fingers trailed over his neck. He took her hand and kissed it.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to now… but there has to be a way. I know turians with asari mates have bondmarks.” Looked like there was more research in his future when they returned to Palaven. “I can wait till we both--”

“I…” She smiled a little and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Do we have to?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, we don’t have to.” A euphoric calm settled over him. Shepard was going to be his mate, and he would be hers.

She tilted her chin up to kiss him again as he shifted, pressing her back against the bed. He cupped the back of her head and held her close to him, tilting her head so he could nuzzle against her throat. Her pulse began to raise again. He nipped the corner of her jaw and she rocked beneath him, her strong thighs squeezing his waist.

Finding their rhythm again, he began to build up some momentum. He drew back so far he almost left her wonderful warmth and then snapped back in, enjoying the way she would gasp and her breasts would shift as he did. He pressed into her fully with every stroke and could see the tension building in her. Shepard pulled him closer, her fingers rubbing across his neck and fringe wildly. He was getting close. And she was too, by the sounds of her moans. He just had to hold out longer than she did. He stopped pulling out as far, needing to be in, in, in. This was it, she was almost there.

Suddenly, her coiled spring of tension broke and she cried out his name, hands holding tight to his shoulders, inner walls fluttering around him. He roared and bit down on the muscle at the base of her neck, marking her as his mate. His release struck him in that moment and the world turned white hot around the two of them. 

For a long moment, there was nothing but her and him. His awareness dimmed only to Shepard beneath him and every point of contact between them. Her floral scents had faded, the salt grown clearer now, below that her wonderful earthy tone. Through it all, though, there was something new and yet familiar. She smelled like  _ him _ , he realized slowly. Oh, it was the best scent in the entire galaxy.

Slowly, his senses clicked back on one by one. First, Garrus was aware of the bright coppery taste that lingered along the edges of his tongue. Then he heard Shepard breathing deeply and felt her hands slip away from his shoulders. Dragging his eyes open, he checked her over. Small hairs were stuck to her forehead from the slight moisture beading there. Her eyes were closed and she lay completely relaxed below him as if there wasn’t a single bone in her body. The only injury he saw on her was the mark on her shoulder, his mark. Two rows of parallel punctures, red on pale skin. She looked so peaceful, absolutely beautiful. 

He rolled to his side and pulled her with him, wanting to feel as much of her on as much of him as possible. Her eyes blinked open after a few seconds and she smiled sleepily at him.

“Hi,” she whispered, trailing clumsy fingers over his mandible.

He chuckled. “Hey there. How do you feel?”

She took a deep breath and her eyes drifted shut. “Amazing.”

He purred and caressed the side of her forehead with his, trailing his fingers up her arm and across her collarbone. Her relaxed expression flinched as he barely grazed her mark. He could fix that.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left to go find the medical kit Shepard had pointed out when they first arrived. It was easy to smell which tube was antiseptic, human manufacturers obviously hadn’t bothered with removing the scent. He grabbed a gauze pad and wet a washcloth before returning to Shepard.

She cracked an eye open at him as he came back in the room. “How can you walk? I can barely move,” she muttered from where she was still sprawled across the bed.

He smiled and sat down on the edge. “Probably something to do with my mate needing medical attention.”

“It’s fine.” She closed her eyes and threw an arm over her face. “Slap some medigel on there and let’s go again.”

“We don’t have any more medigel. And you just said you could barely move,” he replied, indulgently.

“That was before I remembered that we could do that again.”

He chuckled. “Let’s get you bandaged first.” He dabbed the wet cloth over the front half of the mark. Her eyes opened and watched him as he carefully spread the antiseptic gel across the lines of shallow puncture wounds.

“Hey.” She crooked a finger at him and he leaned closer, till she tilted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. How was he lucky enough that she was his mate, he wondered quietly.

“Alright, sit up,” he directed, shifting how he was sitting so he was behind her.

She sighed and rolled to a half sitting, half slumped forward position that didn’t look very comfortable. But she was still completely relaxed. He brushed her hair out of the way and then stopped. 

Not more than a few inches from the mark he’d just given her were the six scars she’d already received from turians before him. He stared at the pale lines on her freckled back. A cold reminder of what she’d already suffered at the hands of people just like him. He’d never considered his species to be barbaric, but there was something about seeing turian violence written in the skin of his mate that chilled him to his very core.

 

“Garrus?” Shepard asked when he hadn’t moved for almost a full minute. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t reply, instead ran the pads of his fingers down a very particular path along her upper back. Oh. Oh no.

“Hey,” she said softly as she sat up and turned around to face him. His face was downcast and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She cupped his cheek and pressed her forehead to his.

“I shouldn’t have--” he started.

“No,” she cut him off. “I asked you to.” 

He shook his head, still not meeting her eyes. “Even still…” 

She paused and tried to come up with something that would make him understand why she’d wanted this. Why this was important to her.

She held out her left arm where a thin pale line ran up the back of her hand over her wrist. “Omniblade during boot camp. It was our first day with real weapons and I wasn’t paying close enough attention to what I was doing.” She turned her left leg and pointed to a circular indent on her mid-thigh. “Gunshot wound, doing security detail on Eden Prime about five years ago.” She pointed now to a small mark on her upper right forearm. “And this? Mosquito bite that I picked the scab off of too many times during Geometry class.” Finally, he looked up to meet her eyes. 

“Humans scar. It’s how we heal. And I am covered in them, from stupid things I did as a kid, to accidents that weren’t my fault, and yes, from battle.” She cupped his cheeks and continued speaking softly. “But I’m only going to have one scar that I actually want. One scar that when I look at it I’m not reminded of a mistake or a bad memory. When I look at it, I’ll be reminded of you… and how much you mean to me.” 

She ran her thumb along his markings. Despite all their differences, he felt more familiar to her than anyone else in the galaxy.

“Garrus… I don’t want to be your mate in  _ spite _ of you being a turian. It’s a part of who you are and that’s wonderful to me. That’s why I wanted your mark.”

“Really?”

“One Hundred Percent.”

He relaxed finally and gave her a very soft smile. It made her heart swell to see it. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight. She smiled as she felt him dab the back of her mark with the washcloth and then swipe some antiseptic across it. How was she so lucky that he was her husband, she wondered quietly. 

“Now how do I get this to stay on you?” he asked, struggling to open what sounded like a gauze pad. She chuckled and sat back, taking the pad from him.

“We need the tape from the kit.” He disappeared for a moment and when he returned, she showed him how to tape the edges so the mark was protected till it scabbed. “There. Safe as houses.” 

He gingerly ran the back of his finger over her cheek, and she fought back a beaming smile. She didn’t know that she could be this happy, she thought as she leaned towards him to kiss him again.

He purred and pulled her close, leaning her back on the bed and affectionately running his fingers through her hair. “You still want to go again?” he asked in a quiet tone, caressing her forehead with his.

She hummed. A relaxing sleepiness had crept into her muscles and somehow this quiet just being together was just as good. “We do have the cabin to ourselves all day tomorrow still…”

He smiled and nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

She pulled him back into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder. . He relaxed as she trailed her fingers along the side of his neck, slipping his hands under her torso. They stayed like that for several minutes. She could feel him rumbling, consistent and in a register she hadn’t ever heard before.

“What do your subvocals mean right now?” she murmured.

“Affection, mostly. ...Contentment. And… something that I can’t really describe.” He paused for a moment, letting the rumbling continue. “Assuredness.”

She memorized how the subvocals felt in that moment. She never wanted to forget it. For a long while they just basked in the silence, in the shared affection, in the quiet sensations of holding each other. Shepard almost drifted off to sleep like that. But she awoke when Garrus got up again.

“Where are you going?” she muttered, already missing his solid warmth in her arms.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he left the room. She sighed and stretched. She could hear him walking around the other rooms in the cabin. What on earth was he doing? He returned with all the throw pillows from the living room, and then left again. He came back with the pillows from the other bedroom and left once more. 

“Are… are you nesting?” she asked when he returned with what seemed to be every blanket in the house in his arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just making the bed comfortable. Humans don’t know how to make comfortable beds.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, not convinced at all as she watched him begin some sort of elaborate construction around where she was laying. “Want any help?”

“No, you stay there. Though sit up a little.” He slipped a pillow behind her head before returning to draping and shaping the quilts. It was a several minutes long process and at the end he’d definitely built them a very cozy nest. He crawled in next to her and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head between his chin and cowl.

“Even if it’s not a nest, I appreciate it,” she said before pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He hummed happily and nuzzled into her hair. Together, they drifted off to sleep.

 

The next morning, Garrus lifted his head from the pillow and looked out the glass doors to the deck. Mist hung over the grass and the sky was just beginning to lighten. Shepard inhaled deeply and shifted in her sleep next to him on the bed. He looked back to her, studying her relaxed features for several minutes. The convex curve of her lips, the soft red of her eyelashes, the decisive line of her jaw. Spirits, she was breathtaking. Her eyes slowly blinked open and a quiet smile appeared in the corners of her mouth. He touched his mouth to her forehead in his best approximation of one of her kisses.

“Come on,” he whispered before standing up. Her eyes drifted shut again and she made a small noise, patting the space he’d just vacated. She obviously didn’t want to go anywhere. As tempting as that was, he had a better plan. She groaned, a few frown lines appearing between her eyebrows, as he picked her up.

“It’s too early,” she muttered, her head resting against his chest. She managed to keep hold of a blanket; it trailed on the floor behind them as he walked to the door.

He shivered when he stepped outside. Goosebumps broke out over her arms and bare stomach. She groaned again.

“Sorry. Didn’t expect it to be this cold,” he muttered, sitting down in one of the chairs on the deck. 

“Welcome to British Columbia,” she replied, cuddling closer to him and pulling the blanket over them both to block out the chill. Though with Shepard in his lap and the blanket, it was just about right. Actually, it was perfect.

Garrus hummed contentedly, idly stroking his cheek across the top of Shepard’s head for several minutes as he watched the sunrise and she dozed. The feeling of her silky hair across his mandibles was intoxicating. He ran a hand down her arm to her hand, stopping to admire her too many digits. He studied the way her tendons flexed with each deft movement. Her skin was so delicate it had creased in places; he traced the lines across her palm. She chuckled. Though he more felt it than heard it from how she was curled up in his arms.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in a soft voice, smiling himself.

“Just… never would have guessed by appearances that turians would be so physically affectionate.” Sleep made her voice deeper than usual, the edges slightly smoky.  _ Damn _ .

He ran his hand back up her arm slowly, drawing constellations in her freckles. “We’re not really…”

“But you are.”

“Well,  _ you _ are exquisitely touchable. All smooth skin and subtle lines.” He leaned his head so his mouth was brushing her ear as he spoke in a deep tone. “And you make such wonderful noises when I touch you.”

The muscles in her back clenched, but weren’t able to completely fight off the shudder. Success, but he didn’t want to leave this quietly intimate space just yet. So he resumed his study. She had a freckle on the fourth finger of her left hand. She looked at him as he traced his thumb along the length of it. When he met her gaze, she had an expression that he couldn’t quite read.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“Stay here.” She got off his lap, leaving him with the blanket. He unabashedly watched her walk away from him, admiring how her hips swayed with every step and the long lines of the muscles in her legs. There was a confident, intoxicating grace in her movements. 

When she’d gone inside, he relaxed back in the adirondack chair and looked out at the vista. The lake just barely glimmered with the morning sun between the trees. The sky had turned from pale purple to almost yellow. Palaven rarely had so many colors. This place hardly felt real. 

His attention shifted when Shepard returned and sat back down in his lap. He went to take her hand again and she pressed a very small something into his palm. It was the ring he had given her during their bonding ceremony. He looked to her in surprise, but she was looking down at the dark metal ring.

“I found it in the car… during the vigil,” she explained, her eyes flicking up to his to judge his reaction. “It wound up in my bag, and I didn’t find it again till we were here…”

“I… I threw it in the car after the argument… on my way to the base…” So much had changed between them since then. All of it seemed like almost a lifetime ago. He stared down at the piece of odd jewelry, memories rising to the surface. “Victus was the one who told me that humans used rings as their markers for bonding, told me I had to pick one out for you.”

“I didn't know you picked it,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Well, Nihlus proved to be pretty useless in choosing jewelry for humans.”

She laughed softly. “I can practically see you two pouring over a computer terminal and arguing.” 

That was pretty much exactly how it happened. It’d taken hours upon hours, Nihlus continually insisting that the ones with the glittering stones were preferable by humans (on what authority he had this information, Garrus had no clue). But Garrus just didn’t agree.

“I… thought the simplicity was fitting… for a soldier. And the color reminded me of your armor on Eden Prime.” He looked at her for a moment. “That was all I really knew about you back then…”

“It’s exactly what I would have picked.” 

He looked back down at the ring, realizing quietly why she’d given it back to him and what she was implicitly asking. So he took her left hand in his and slipped the ring on the same finger he had over a year ago. Except now, she smiled down at it. Her eyes were as bright as the sunrise behind her when she looked at him. 

Maybe when they got back to Palaven they could find a ring for him as well to go with his own mark, he hoped silently as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She shivered a little as he traced a finger down her jaw. The brightness in her eyes started smoldering and she gave him a languid kiss, melting back into his arms. Not breaking their kiss, he stood quickly and moved swiftly for the door. Yeah, a ring would be perfect, he decided as she chuckled at his eagerness. He wanted everyone to know that he was her husband as much as she was his mate.


	48. Just Surrender and It Won't Hurt at All

Shepard stretched, in the long self-indulgent way she could only when she was on vacation. Rolling her perpetually stiff shoulder out, she sat up and looked over at her still sleeping husband. The word itself made her smile as she watched him for a while. Garrus’ mandible flickered slightly as he breathed deeply. He didn’t exactly snore; he sounded more like a wavering white noise machine than anything else. No wonder she slept so soundly these days.

Carefully, she lifted his arm from across her waist. He muttered something untranslatable, but then cuddled around her abandoned pillow and slipped further into sleep. They got back from Seton very late the night before, so as tempting as it was she decided not to wake him. Or at least not till she’d made him some coffee. 

She scooted off the bed and found some clothes before heading downstairs. Kelly definitely would have been notified by the guards at the gate that they’d returned, and it would be just like Kelly to be lying in wait down in the kitchen. Though as Shepard stepped around the corner downstairs, it wasn’t Kelly sitting at her breakfast bar.

“Admiral,” Shepard said, blinking in shock at the sight of Hackett sitting calmly and reading a datapad. She repressed the urge to salute.

“Commander,” he replied in his usual ‘still waters’ way. He nodded to her and set down the datapad. “Welcome back.”

She tucked more of her hair behind her ears and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you.” Deciding to just embrace this very strange world she’d walked into, she headed into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

They were both silent as she poured grounds into the filter. After she set the pot to brew, she glanced his way. “Did you get my note?”

“I did. Both of them. And I can tell you that Ensign Chambers will not be facing any demerits for losing her charges.”

“Good.” And they were quiet again.

She knew why he was here. And he had to know that she knew. Shepard just wished he’d get it over with. But Hackett never did anything until he was good and ready. It wasn’t until after she’d doctored her coffee and taken her first sip that he finally decided to strike.

“If I ask you where you were this weekend, will you be honest and tell me?” he asked, sounding a little beleaguered.

“We went to Seton Lake, rented a cabin out there,” she answered promptly. There was no need to lie to him, not after she’d already achieved her goal.

“Were your activities observed?”

Dear god I hope not, she thought while resisting the urge to make a face. “It was fairly remote. Not another house for a mile or so, nearest town was about thirty minutes away.”

His eyebrows drew together. “So you went out into the wilderness?”

She lifted an eyebrow in return. “Yes?”

“Alone with a turian?”

There it was. She barely managed to not roll her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any different than being sent alone to the turian home planet.”

“What was the plan if there was trouble?” There was force behind his question, not quite a demand but definitely moving past polite conversation. A strange tone of worry was hidden in the words too.

Shepard turned to lean back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this sentence, but you’re my former Admiral. Not my father. I don’t have to report my actions to you.”

He bit down on his back teeth. “Commander--” he warned.

“I’m not a Commander anymore,” she pushed back, a bitter tone in her voice.

“Being discharged doesn’t change who you are.”

“No. But being abandoned by my entire race for a whole year has.” Her temper starting to simmer, she turned to the cabinet and snagged out two protein bars.

“Even so. You’re still one of ours.”

“No.” She slapped the cabinet shut and spun to face him again. “No, I’m not. And you want to know why? Because you discharged me and then you  _ deserted _ me. I don’t know whose idea it was to cut me off after we found out the Hierarchy was listening, but we are all  _ very _ lucky that Garrus Vakarian is my mate. Because if it was anyone else, I know I wouldn’t be standing here and I’d wager that wouldn’t even be alive.” Her training was warring with her rage, leaving her spitting every word at him in a fierce whisper. 

“I understand that you’ve had trials--”

“No, you don’t.  _ You Do Not Understand _ . You have no idea what I’ve suffered, how much going to Palaven cost me.” She bit out the last sentence through gritted teeth, then straightened up and took a few calming breaths. “I’m not your subordinate anymore, so you can lie to me all you want. That’s fine. But don’t you dare patronize me, Hackett. You owe me that much.”

He stared at her for several seconds, obviously considering something. But whatever it was, he pushed it back and sighed. “We haven’t forgotten you, Shepard.”

She looked away from him and shook her head. What did it matter anymore? Forgotten or remembered, victim or traitor, Commander or Jane--none of it mattered. This wasn’t her life anymore. She had a new life, a good life with good people who actually cared about her, unlike here. Here, she was an unwelcome visitor on her own planet amongst her own people. And Shepard decided right then standing there in the kitchen that she wasn’t going to care anymore. She was done.

“We haven’t forgotten you,” Hackett repeated, putting emphasis on every word.

“Maybe you should,” she said firmly before picking up her protein bars and going back upstairs to Garrus.

She shut the bedroom door solidly behind her, falling back against it and biting down on her fist. Her eyes pricked uncomfortably. She was done. She was done. She was  _ done _ . So stop this. Right now.

“Shepard?” Garrus said softly.

Her eyes snapped up look at him, still lying down and just barely on this side of consciousness. She sucked in a breath and crawled into bed, hiding herself back under his arm.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head. “Just… I’m ready to go home.”

 

“ _ Damn _ , Garrus.” 

He never knew his own name could sound so alluring till he heard Shepard whisper it, softly, breathlessly, in the quiet dark of their bedroom. Her body was still warm underneath his and beaded with sweat. Garrus ran his tongue up her spine to savor the tang of her skin and the shudder of her muscles as she let out a low whine. He nuzzled against her still healing mark, inhaling the maddening scent of her again. Every breath never quite deep enough. He was intoxicated, enthralled, maybe a little bit crazy too. All for her.

Shepard was still working to catch her breath. He was more than a little proud to have been the one to put her in this state. But he could see her arms start to shake from how she was holding herself up. So he sat back and pulled her with him, helping her stretch out her legs and then lean back against his chest. He wrapped her securely in his arms, holding her close. Safe.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, flicking his mandibles on her shoulder.

She nodded and took a long breath. “Good, I’m good. Just--” She laughed a little. “Starting to realize exactly why turians have Seclusion in the first place.”

He buzzed amusedly. Over the past several days he’d thought often of that week they were supposed to share together. He’d wasted the time purposefully ignoring Shepard, as if she would disappear if he only willed it hard enough. What he’d give to have those days now, or even just a few uninterrupted hours. Their time on Earth was limited, so Garrus certainly wasn’t going to begrudge Shepard spending as much as she could with her friends or seeing her city. But he was looking forward to going home again for more reasons than just the food.

“Having trouble keeping up, Commander?” he teased, nipping the corner of her jaw lightly.

She shook her head and sucked in another breath. “Of course not, Major. If anything, you’ve been holding me back.”

“Ah, I see.” He slid his palms up her bare stomach, just to remind himself of the texture of her smooth skin in case he’d forgotten in the two minutes since he’d touched it last. She gently took hold of his wrists.

“Though on an entirely unrelated note… I do think I should tap out for tonight.”

Now he laughed. “Unrelated, of course.”

Garrus settled for holding her hands in his, weaving their fingers in a way that shouldn’t have felt as natural as it did for five and three. He traced a thumb over her knuckles.

“It’s strange how well this works,” she mused, her fingers flexing in his grip. 

“Once we figured out that whole chafing issue,” he replied dryly. 

She snickered. “I didn’t say it was without challenges.” 

“True.” He’d never had to discuss so much before even basic concepts could be attempted. Certain positions or habits had been thrown straight out the window. And then there was that terrible moment yesterday when he’d pulled away from her to find her delicate skin rubbed raw by his plates. But she’d still let him touch her today, and bathe her in analgesic lotion, which turned out to be a stronger aphrodisiac than one might think. 

“I always liked a challenge,” she said with a touch of pride.

“Me too.”

They were quiet again for several minutes, relaxing in the pleasant sensations of afterglow and each other. Nothing but the sound of their breaths and the crickets outside. The space, the silence felt nearly sacred.

He tucked a few loose locks of hair behind her ear and caressed his mandible against her cheek, feeling her smile.

“Out of curiosity,” she said in a low tone, glancing back at him. “Is this anything like you’re used to?”

He chuffed. “Are you asking me about the sexual habits of turians, Shepard?” 

“Yes, I am.”

He stretched a little to give himself time to think of a response. “I think it’s universally considered rude to be thinking of other people while naked and holding someone else in your arms.” He was definitely trying to dodge the question. But she didn’t let him escape.

“I’m not interested in your old conquests, I just mean--we’ve had to make… adjustments for our biology, but I want this to be more than just scratching an itch. I--” She shrugged her shoulders. “Is there something I should be doing so you feel…” She hesitated for a long moment. “Held?” 

Oh. He regretted making light of her question now. He thought for a second then tilted his forehead to press against the side of her head. “This is different, yes. Very different at times. But it’s… so good for me. You don’t have to worry.”

A tension that he hadn’t noticed she’d been holding relaxed from her shoulders. “Okay,” she replied softly. She reached up and touched his cheek, cupping it. “Good.”

Truth be told, this was different mainly because he’d never felt this way before. This was all new to him, and not just because Shepard was human. 

“How about me? Do you feel--”  _ Loved _ . That word had very nearly tripped off his tongue as easy as breathing. He choked it back inelegantly. “Held?” 

She turned her head to look at him for a minute. He wondered if he could see the fear in his eyes. Not fear of her--fear of just how deeply he’d fallen in love with her. He hadn’t realized it before, though how he’d missed it he wasn’t quite sure. He was utterly, completely, absolutely in love with Shepard. But these were deep sacred storied waters. And he wasn’t quite sure if he was seaworthy. Even still, he wanted to be, for her.

A smile appeared in her eyes. “I do,” she said softly, squeezing his hands and then touching a kiss to his mandible. She settled back against him and hummed contentedly. His heart felt like it might implode as he slipped his arms around her middle and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

To borrow her own words:  _ damn _ , Jane.


	49. *You Just got Time to Say Your Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW content in the second half of the chapter. Same as last time, I'll post a quick summary before next chapter. <3, K

“Hey everybody, guess who finally decided to show up?” Vega shouted as they stepped into the cozy backyard.

“Shepard!!” Her entire team turned and shouted at the same time like some sort of corny sitcom. 

Shepard couldn’t fight back an answering smile. “Sorry we’re late, _someone_ thought he could take the 99 during rush-hour and still be on time,” she said, giving her chauffer a good-natured glare.

“Yeah, who would be that stupid?” Vega replied, making a beeline for the grill that Cortez was manning.

It was the final night of the trip, so the squad had come together once more for a final party at Alenko’s duplex. Not too different from the four or so other times they’d gathered as a group on this trip. Other than this was the last time, but the atmosphere was decidedly festive despite the circumstances. There was even a ‘Come Back Soon’ banner on the back fence.

“So Shepard,” Joker started in his usual teasing tone. He was leaning on the corner of the drinks table, beer in hand. “If it was your last night on Earth, what would you like to drink?”

Shepard slipped her hands into the pocket of her N7 hoodie and thought for a moment. “You got any bourbon, barkeep?”

“Let’s see.” Joker started checking bottles. “Tough luck, Shepard. No bourbon, but there is just a plain old whisky if that works for you.”

“That sounds just fine.” She took the bottle from Joker and poured a few fingers into a red plastic cup as he resumed his perch on the corner.

“So you leave the old ball and chain home?”

Shepard smiled a little. “Yeah. Garrus said he was feeling a little sleep deprived.”

Joker sputtered into his cup and coughed a few times.

“Palaven has twenty-eight hour days, Joker. He’s missing the extra time,” she quickly explained in an exasperated tone that she hoped to God sounded legitimate. Truthfully, Joker had accidentally hit on the real reason. Though it was every bit as much Garrus’ fault that they were lacking sleep as it was hers.

“Right,” Joker said weakly. He slapped his chest a few times and coughed once more. Shepard quickly took her drink and made a fast exit, hoping that her face wasn’t too red. She sat down in one of the lawn chairs in the circle set up near the grill and forced herself to focus on the conversation. 

“That’s what I’m saying, Esteben--we should all get victory tattoos!” Vega declared, batting a hand on Cortez’ shoulder. 

“You know we lost the war,” Traynor pointed out, looking up from the portobello burger that Cortez had just handed her. 

Vega looked stumped for a moment. “...Survival tattoos?”

“Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Kaidan said, shaking his head. 

“Plus, if you get too many more you won’t have room for your N7,” Shepard added.

Vega looked momentarily touched, obviously pleased that she’d remembered his personal goal. And then the expression turned on a dime into his trademark faux flirtatious grin. “You saying _you_ have an N7 tattoo, Shepard?”

She smirked and sipped her drink. “Perhaps.” She didn’t actually. Her N7 class celebration had been cut short by the discovery of a whole new hostile species. She was shipped from Brazil to Vancouver to join the _Somme_ in less than two days--no time for ink.

He scoffed. “I’ve never seen it.”

“And you never will, James.”

A laugh rippled across the whole group at that. It was a popular pastime on the _Somme_ to watch the Lieutenant and their XO go a few rounds, verbally or otherwise. Shepard always made sure to let Jimmy have a running shot, before skillfully and solidly putting him back in his place. 

As the night wore on, Vega would occasionally run up to the metaphorical line and put a toe across to see if Shepard would stop him. She always pushed back and he’d retreat for another twenty minutes or so until he was ready to try again. It almost two hours later before Vega decided he was ready to take his shot.

“Come on, _Lola_.” Calling her Lola was always a sign he was gearing up for trouble. “Let’s go, you and me. Just like old times.”

“You mean all those times that I laid you out flat on your ass?” she replied, not moving from her chair.

“Irregardless--I bet eighteen months of cushy civvie life has made you soft.” A low ‘oo’ went through the group. Shepard lifted an eyebrow. If Vega wanted to dance, she’d give him a dance.

“I could be a civilian for the rest of my life and I’d still be able to take you to school,” she replied, casually.

“Hah. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

She stood and finished the rest of her drink. “Then bring it on, Jimmy boy.”

“Hey, uh, since we’re not on the ship this time, can we make bets?” Joker asked as chairs were moved and Vega started doing some sort of elaborate warm up in the middle of the yard.

Shepard shrugged, savoring the warm feeling of whisky across her shoulders. “Why not? I’m not your XO anymore.” Joker looked like she’d handed him the key to the _Somme_. Money quickly changed hands while Vega finished his warm up.

“You ready to dance, Shepard?” he asked, hopping from foot to foot.

“In a moment. Don’t want to stain my favorite jacket with your tears.” She pulled her hoodie off and tossed it onto an empty chair, glad that she’d chosen to wear a tank underneath. More freedom of movement this way. 

Shepard stretched her arms momentarily, rolling out her perpetually stiff shoulder, and then took a fighting stance a few feet from Vega. He was grinning like an idiot, and then abruptly the grin disappeared from his face.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a sec.” He stood up and stepped closer, gazing intently at something on her person. “What happened to your shoulder--is… is that a bite?"

All of the blood drained out of Shepard’s face and she slapped a hand over her mark. 

Oh _fuck_. 

“It--it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she stammered, fear boiling in her gut. Shit, she’d forgotten. This wasn’t supposed to happen, they weren’t supposed to see.

Kaidan stepped even closer than Vega, shock written on his face. “Did _he_ do this to you?” Kaidan demanded, righteous fury flashed in his eyes. “He _bit_ you!?”

“Listen, I know what this looks like--”

“You don’t have to protect him, Shepard. You’re safe here.” Kaidan grabbed her hands, turning her arms as if to check for other injuries. “This has to violate some sort of treaty. We were told you wouldn’t be harmed.”

She’d hoped to just slide under the radar this week and return back to Palaven with her team none the wiser for the change. They wouldn’t understand. Ashley hadn’t even understood how she could let Garrus touch her hair, let alone everything else now. But the cat was well and truly out of the bag. 

“No, Kaidan you--you misunderstand.” She dropped his hands and stepped back, her knees locking in fear. “He did this to me… Because I asked him to.” She stared at their wide-eyed expressions. Every breath felt like it echoed in her ears. 

This was it. The breaking point. 

And then Vega laughed, immediately snapping the tension. “Damn, Lola. I didn’t know you were _that_ kinky.” Several of them relaxed, wide grins breaking out across their faces.

“Do you think it’ll scar?” Cortez asked.

“It’ll look hella badass if it does,” Joker added.

Kaidan spun around to face the rest of the team, his shoulders rigid. “What the hell is wrong with all of you?? Our Commander has a Turian Bite On Her Neck and you're just okay with this???”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause she obviously loves him,” Traynor replied and then she blustered, her eyes suddenly wide. And there it was, the final nail in the coffin. Every damning truth laid out for examination in front of the people she cared most about in the entire galaxy.

Kaidan turned to look at her again, something deep hovering in his eyes. “...You love him?” he echoed in a quieter voice.

Shepard stared at him for a moment. She knew how this meant more to him than it did to the rest of the team, how… personal this particular truth would feel. She nodded. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t.”

She watched his face as emotion after emotion rolled across it. She expected him to go back inside, for this to finally be enough for him to walk away and join Ashley’s side of things. But instead he finished his emotional journey, tucked everything neatly away, straightened up and nodded once. “If you think he’s good enough for you, Shepard, then I trust you.”

Without even thinking about it, Shepard crossed the few feet between them and grabbed Kaidan in a hug, her throat grown thick in relief and gratitude. He hugged her back immediately. After a few moments, Vega jumped in and hugged them both. Cortez and Traynor joined in a few seconds later.

“Come on, Joker, you know you want in on this,” Vega said.

“I’m good with all my ribs unbroken. But I’m there in spirit,” he replied, lifting his cup to toast them.

The hug was bone-crushing and the air at the center became stale really quickly, but it felt right. For a few moments, it felt like home.

The party wound down after that and since Shepard was leaving for the spaceport early the next morning, good-byes were said before they left.

“You take care, Shepard,” Cortez said, a smile twinkling in his eyes.

“And when you get back to Palaven, promise me you’ll try the number,” Traynor added.

Shepard nodded. “I will, I promise.”

She hugged them both again and then turned to Joker. “Stay safe, Commander,” he said, serious for once as he extended a hand.

She shook it, firmly but careful not to hurt him. “You too.”

Vega was her ride home, so Kaidan was the last one left. She stopped in front of him and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “Come back soon,” he said, a distinct note of sorrow in his scratchy voice.

“I will.” She hesitated for a moment and then added, “And if you… if you see Ash again, tell her…” Shepard sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. Tell her I miss her.”

He squeezed her shoulder back. “I will. She just needs… Well, you know her even better than I do.”

“Yeah.”

“But I will tell her. I promise.”

“Thanks.” Shepard headed for the passenger side of the car and opened the door, stopping to look back at her team. They’d gone through hell and back together and even though she wasn’t around, they still believed in her. She hoped they knew how much that meant to her. She snapped to attention and raised a salute; they all immediately mirrored her.

“It’s been an honor,” she said, quoting the same words she last told them the night before she left for Palaven the first time. “Oorah.”

“Oorah,” they repeated as they snapped off the salute.

 

Waking up to find his mate at his side definitely rated very high on the list of Garrus’ Favorite Things. Right below getting a perfect headshot. Though when his mate was naked, like Shepard was right now, it ranked above headshots. Above most things really, except for the few ideas that popped into his head as he gazed upon the sight of her in all her glory.

Before he let himself head too far down that road, he checked the time. They were leaving for Palaven this morning and Kelly was picking them up early. But they still had a little over an hour before she would arrive. Perfect.

Slowly, Garrus raised himself up on his hands and knees and crept over Shepard’s sleeping form. Humans might not know how to make comfortable beds, but these were definitely easier to not disturb one’s partner in. He caressed her forehead, fluttering his mandibles to imitate her kiss. She muttered unintelligibly and turned her face away. 

He chuckled and nuzzled the newly exposed length of her neck. “Good morning,” he rumbled, more subvocal than words.

Her eyes didn’t open, but she made a small grunt. She was awake and she obviously wasn’t too happy about it. Hopefully he could change her mind. He pressed his best approximation of human kisses up her neck before reaching her ear which he tugged at lightly. Her hand clumsily patted his neck and she sighed deeply, eyes opening now. There she was, the love of his life. He rested his forehead on hers, subvocals humming with overwhelming affection.

“Morning,” she murmured before tilting her head to give him a soft kiss.

“How was your party last night?” he asked, casually moving back to her neck.  

“Mm--Good, it was good…” She yawned and stretched, doing things to the lines of her torso that should probably be illegal in Council space. 

He migrated from her neck to her collarbones as her hand came up to caress the back of his head. Oh yes. He ran the tip of his tongue along the length of the protruding bone, enjoying immensely the way she shivered as he reached the hollow of her throat. 

“I’m going to miss those guys,” she said softly.

He stopped his downward descent and looked up at her, reading her face. She was rubbing at her eyes so he couldn’t tell immediately what she was thinking. “I can imagine.”

Meeting his gaze again, she gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm. “But it’s easier saying goodbye when I know I’ll be back someday.”

He marveled at her for a few seconds, contemplating not for the first time how he would feel if their positions were reversed. How she found the strength to put one foot in front of the other and get on the ship to leave Earth in the first place, ostensibly never to return, he still wasn’t quite sure. 

“Jane Shepard: soldier, wife, bravest person I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

Her smile grew wider and she leaned up to plant a kiss on his mandible. But he turned his head and caught her in a real kiss. He cradled the back of her head, holding her close. For several leisurely minutes he just kissed her, languidly, thoroughly. Till she was even more relaxed than she had been when she was sleeping. She sighed softly. Her eyes dreamily opened and shut a few times as he smiled down at her. It almost looked like she could drift right back to sleep. But Garrus had better plans.

“Do you remember that first night, at the cabin?” he asked, returning to the work he’d been doing on her neck. He nibbled the delicate skin, apologizing every time with a swipe of his tongue. 

“Of course?” she replied, sounding amused and already a bit breathless.

He traced down to the valley between her breasts, over her sternum and stopped. He met her curious gaze. “Do you remember the offer you made?”

A sly smile spread across her face. “Are you wanting to take me up on it?”

A mirror of her smile appeared on his face now. “Actually… do you mind if I go first?”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows jumped up. “You sure?”

He nodded, hands tracing along her rib cage down to her waist. “I am… desperately curious what you taste like.”

A very small yet very undignified noise left her, sounding something like complete surprise. But he took it as a good sign from the way her pupils had suddenly dilated to consume her irises. Unable to resist he leaned up to kiss her again, tongue tangling with hers.

“Are you amenable to my plan?” he asked, subvocals already starting to hum with arousal. Spirits, she got him going without even trying.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

He slipped off the foot of the bed and pulled her towards him, resting her hips on the edge. Her toes were curling and uncurling at random in anticipation. He chuckled. If he’d known how much she apparently liked this, he wouldn’t have stopped her that first time.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with these kinds of acts. Though in his experience it was typically done before the receiving party’s plates had fully relaxed. A prelude. But Shepard was always open. A fact which drove him crazy if he thought about it long enough. Still, some principles had to cross apply.

“Do you… want some help?” Shepard asked. Garrus realized that he’d just been kneeling in front of her and staring at her in silence.

“No, just considering tactics.”

She chuckled once. “Since you’re familiar with the topography, I’ll just say--I tend to find that a subtle approach is often best. Hit ‘em where they least expect and then build to a full frontal assault.” He hummed and fought back a smile. They could probably engage in a whole conversation of tactical entendres. The idea just made him love her more.

In the end, he followed her advice--tracing up from her knees along her inner thighs, never quite giving her what she wanted and just letting the tension grow and grow. She was practically writhing on the bed before he’d even really got going. When her taste bloomed on his tongue, he groaned and had to catch his breath. And he’d thought she _smelled_ good. Everything about this was intoxicating, from her taste to her sounds to the way it was almost a battle to keep her where he wanted her. At times he wasn’t sure who was enjoying themselves more. 

He’d almost pushed her over the edge when she suddenly put two hands on his forehead and pushed him back. Quickly he searched for blood, or any place where he hadn’t been paying enough attention and had hurt her. But he didn’t immediately see any.

She had to take two full breaths before she could speak. “I didn’t want…” she explained, cupping his cheeks. “I want to finish with you. Together.”

Oh this was it, he was a doomed turian. There was no one else but her. Never would be again. Ever. Thank the spirits she was his mate.

Shepard slipped her knees off his shoulders and pulled him up over her on the bed. But he paused. “You know this will--”

“I don’t care, you can put more lotion on me later. I just want you. _Please_.”

She might not care but he did. Even still, she made a very strong argument by wrapping her legs around his waist--his sensitive skin brushing her soft muscular thighs--and canting her hips up towards him. He’d been so focused on her he’d somehow missed the fact that he was already completely out of his sheath. He groaned as she wrapped herself around him, pulling him close. Even without moving, just the skin to skin contact with Shepard was so good. He half-wished for Kelly to forget all about them and then they could remain like this for hours. His mate, however, had other plans. She nipped his neck and squeezed her thighs around him. That was all the encouragement he needed. 

Though they’d barely been doing this for a week, Garrus had already found several things that he adored beyond the obvious. Top of the list was always the look in Shepard’s eyes. Somehow both far away and fully present, as if she was within and without all at the same time. The look only grew more intense as she drew closer to her peak again and he knew he wasn’t far behind her. As she reached shuddering rapture, she pulled him down, pressing his forehead against hers. He found his quickly after, tilting his head to kiss her lips gently, reverently.

Then came the breathless seconds right before the afterglow set in. The peak of the arc before gravity grabbed hold of them again and reality returned. When everything was crisp and clear, and there was nothing but her. That was at the top of Garrus’ Favorite Things.

He smoothed her now very messy hair as she slowly smiled up at him. “Are you hurt?” he asked as he carefully lifted himself off of her. The chafing wasn’t as bad as it had been the first time they’d tried it this way, but he still saw several patches.

“Nothing a little lotion won’t fix.” She cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over colony markings affectionately. He nodded and reached over to the nightstand where the lotion was kept. He squeezed a generous portion and began massaging it into her skin, moving methodically from patch to patch, then rubbing the excess wherever he wanted. She hummed and her eyes drifted shut. “This is a very poor deterrent from letting you keep chafing me,” she said with a half smile after a few minutes.

He chuckled. “Don’t go back to sleep,” he chided gently, running his talons over a ticklish spot he’d discovered on her inner knee. She tensed and her eyes opened to glare at him. “Kelly’s going to be here soon.”

Shepard sighed. “How long?”

Garrus checked his omnitool again. “About… eight minutes.”

“Guess that means I’m showering on the ship,” she muttered sitting up and scratching her scalp. “Can’t say I missed timed showers.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll be home soon, and then you can have as long of showers as you’d like.”

“Only if you join me.”

“Happily.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, y'all. It's embarrassing how much I love this weird little world I've made. Let me know your thoughts below or find me on tumblr: [miceenscene](https://miceenscene.tumblr.com/). If you'd like to get early access to chapters for this story and all my others, join me on [Patreon](http://www.patreon.com/kaitlyngrace). <3, Kaitlyn


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